


Finding Home

by dracoqueen22



Series: Flights of Fancy [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Harpy AU!, Harpyformers, Love at First Sight, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-05-09 18:30:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14721359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: Perceptor’s spent so long among the humans, he’s almost forgotten how much he misses other harpies, until Drift wanders into Kaon, a pretty package of everything Perceptor never knew he wanted.





	1. The First Meeting

Learning to hold the smooth, slick glass beakers had been a struggle. The test tubes were even harder. But he had learned.   
  
Perceptor had nimble talons, long and narrow fingers, and shorter feathers around his carpals. He was lucky. All of this made it easier to use the humans’ equipment.   
  
He still had to take great care. He was eternally grateful for Dr. Morgan’s kindness. He would not repay it with another broken item.   
  
Perceptor hovered over the microscope and carefully nudged the slide with the tip of his talon. It made a pleasant  _tink_  as it slid into position. Perfect.   
  
Perceptor eased behind the eyepiece. He was so much larger that doing so left a cramp in his neck, but it was worth it. His curiosity couldn’t be ignored or contained. It was the whole reason he’d come to Kaon University in the first place. Dr. Morgan’s invitation had been one he refused to ignore.   
  
One talon rested on each dial. It took a bare nudge to adjust it to his preference. There. Perfect. Now he just needed to--  
  
“Perceptor!”   
  
He startled, scrambling back from the microscope, his knee bumping the edge of the desk. The equipment rattled ominously, and Perceptor hastened to grab it. He steadied the desk, his core thumping with alarm.   
  
He turned his head slowly. One of the undergrads stood in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot, though he had the decency to look apologetic.   
  
“Sorry,” the human said, and blushed. Perceptor did not recognize this one, which meant he was not used to being in Perceptor’s proximity. “I just… um… we need you.”   
  
“Can it not wait?” Perceptor demanded, only to pause and exhale. The child hadn’t meant any harm.   
  
“No. It’s an emergency…?” The boy coughed into his hand, the color in his cheeks deepening to crimson. “There’s another one of you outside the gates, except he’s dead. Or at least, we think he is. We dunno. We didn’t get close enough to look.”   
  
The alarm, slowly ebbing, returned with a vengeance. Perceptor had not seen another harpy since he’d left his aerie over a decade ago. Perhaps this was an overdue coincidence. Or perhaps more sinister circumstances were afoot.   
  
“I see.” Perceptor pretended calm. “Outside the main gate?”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
“Then I’ll have a look. What color was he?”   
  
The student shuffled his feet impatiently. “I dunno.” He shrugged. “Grey. Brown maybe. He’s dirty.”   
  
Perceptor pressed his lips together. Alone and filthy? Perhaps this was someone in need of sanctuary rather than a prison cell. Only meeting him would tell.   
  
“All right then. Let us go.”   
  


~

  
  
Perceptor had spent so long in the laboratory that a sunny, spring morning had morphed into a fierce, storming afternoon. Upon seeing the deluge, the undergrad had balked, leaving Perceptor to continue on his own.   
  
He could have flown. But the rain was thick and heavy, soaking his featherdown and leaving him feeling drowned. Besides, he was out of practice.   
  
Beyond the main gate, a few humans had gathered. They huddled under an umbrella that was far too small, and essentially useless given the angle of the rainfall. Perceptor recognized none of them, though of course they knew his name. Their greetings were polite, if not cautious.   
  
Some humans still spread the lie that harpies snatched human children, after all. Perceptor didn’t understand it. Apart from the rare Raptor, harpies didn’t consume meat or flesh at all.   
  
A few feet from the students lay a sodden mess of muddy feathers, face down in the well-trod earth. Perceptor approached cautiously, for judging by size alone, this was a smol, though one trained for battle. The worn sheath and hint of a hilt suggested a warrior or soldier, perhaps from Iacon or Tesaurus.   
  
The harpy was a touch on the lean side. Small patches of feathers were missing. A wound on his thigh had been hastily bandaged, or had become unraveled in the storm.   
  
“Hello?”   
  
Not a twitch.   
  
Perceptor flushed, realizing he’d called out in the human language. Very few harpies spoke it. They had no reason to.   
  
Percy switched to his native tongue and tried again. “Excuse me?”   
  
Silence.   
  
He dared crouch by the poor heap, noting that the harpy was not, in fact, dead. He still breathed, though it was shallow. He also raged with fever. Even with the cold wind and rain, Perceptor could feel the heat rising from the stranger.   
  
Perceptor frowned.   
  
The chance this poor smol meant him any harm was very slim. He was in no condition to injure anyone. Perceptor supposed he would take the risk, if only for the sake of his own conscience. He could not leave this harpy to die.   
  
“Perceptor?”   
  
He glanced back at the students huddled under their paltry umbrella. “This harpy lives. I’ll be bringing him back to my room.”   
  
He rose and looked down, considering how best to approach this. They were almost of a size, but the harpy looked thin, perhaps underfed. This would be doable, if not slow, provided the smaller one did not wake and thrash about.   
  
“Do you want help?” one of the females asked.   
  
Perceptor shook his head. “No. In fact, you should keep your distance.” He knelt on the other side of the harpy and worked his hands beneath the limp body, scooping him up into his arms.   
  
He staggered, the unknown harpy unexpectedly heavy. Lucky that he was not so far from home. The stranger did not stir, except to make the quietest of pained noises. Perceptor softened in sympathy. The poor thing. Was he younger than Perceptor thought? Maybe a youngling lost and far from home?   
  
“Are you sure?”   
  
Perceptor nodded, adjusted the harpy’s weight in his grip, and started toward the college. “Yes,” he replied. “If he wakes, he may act out of fear, and a harpy’s talons are not one to take lightly. It could easily rend your flesh from your bones.”   
  
A human squeaked. As one, the three took several steps away.   
  
Perceptor’s burden made another soft, sad noise. He shivered, claws twitching, head turning toward the fluff of Perceptor’s chest.   
  
He was even more certain he’d made the right choice. This young one needed help, and Perceptor was not so far from his roots he could ignore another harpy in need.   
  
Besides, it was getting quite lonely in Kaon. He also knew Dr. Morgan would be very interested to meet a new harpy for her research. Perhaps the stranger could be convinced to stay.   
  
Only time would tell.   
  


~

  
  
Drift woke slowly, surrounded by warmth, and surprised he woke at all. Hadn’t he collapsed outside a human city? He’d pushed himself to make it over the thickest of Kaon’s forest, and bright lights had drawn him forward. There was a moment where he’d realized it was human in origin, nothing to be trifled with, but by then it was too late.   
  
Another frigid gust of drenched wind, and he’d dropped. Exhaustion made it impossible to catch himself. He tumbled head over feet. He didn’t remember hitting the ground.   
  
Now he was warm?   
  
He twitched his head. No heavy weight of chains. Not around his neck, nor around his wrists or ankles. There was bedding beneath him, soft and comforting. The air was filled with the scent of fresh fruit. Nearby, someone hummed quietly. The melody was almost familiar, or maybe that was Drift’s addled brain struggling to make sense.   
  
Drift kept still and forced his eyes open, ever so slowly.   
  
He was indoors, he realized, the roof above him solid and speckled with a variety of colors. He lay in a hammock lined with plush blankets, cradling his broken body. Someone had taken care to wrap his wounds.   
  
Drift turned his head, his eyes widening in surprise.   
  
There was another harpy here. He was a dark crimson, mostly around the torso, and his feathers darkened to black before lightening out to gray then white. Large, definitely bara-class. He sat with his back to Drift, feathers smoothed down.   
  
The song came from him.   
  
Drift fidgeted; the hammock creaked. His mysterious savior stopped singing. He turned to face Drift, his lips curved in a soft smile. He was stunning, Drift realized. His eyes were big and blue, like the ocean, something Drift had only ever seen from afar. But he remembered the glittering waters.   
  
“Oh! You’re awake!” The bara rose to his feet and padded closer. He tilted his head, looking Drift over, his voice pleasant. “How’re you feeling?”   
  
“Warm,” Drift croaked. His throat felt as dry as the badlands. At least that meant the other harpy wouldn’t have to hear the worst of his uncultured accent. “Thank you.”   
  
“We outcasts must look after each other. Though of course, I may be presuming to call you an outcast.” He lowered himself to an empty stool by Drift’s bedside. “I am Perceptor, originally of Tyger Pax.”   
  
“Drift. Iacon, by way of Tesaurus.” He gave his birth name. No need for Perceptor to know of ‘Deadlock’. That monster was left behind in Helex, where he belonged.   
  
“Mmm. A seasoned traveler then.” Perceptor’s gentle smile was soothing. He tilted his head. “I have heard of your flock. Many great warriors are of Tesaurus.”   
  
Yes. And Drift would never be among those stories. He’d left before he could make a name for himself. He would never rise in the ranks. He would never be what his carrier wanted him to be. Carrier had tried, but Drift simply didn’t have the skill.   
  
So he’d left it all behind, keeping only Sire’s gift as the rare item he couldn’t bear to leave.   
  
Drift’s eyes widened, and he bolted upright. “My blade! Where--”  
  
“It is quite safe.” Perceptor gestured to his left.   
  
Drift followed the motion with his eyes. His sheath hung on a rack which itself hung on the wall. It looked like someone had cleaned and polished the sheath even. How kind.  
  
He sagged with relief. “Thank you,” he repeated. He swept a hand over his crest, surprised to find that he was clean. “For helping me, I mean. I should have died out there.”   
  
“Were you exiled?”   
  
“No.” Drift shook his head and offered a rueful grin. “But storming out in a fit of pique wasn’t the best idea either. What about you?”   
  
“I chose to leave as well.” Perceptor’s gaze slid away, his feathers slicking down as his tone turned mournful. “There were things I wanted I could not have.”   
  
Drift had never been to Tyger Pax. He knew nothing of its flock law. But if it was anything like Tesaurus or Iacon, he could understand why Perceptor left. Rules. Regulations. Expectations. They could be heavy weights to keep one grounded.   
  
Drift looked around. This looked like no nest he’d ever seen, not even in Iacon, who had one of the more advanced flocks in all of Cybertron. In fact, if he had to guess…  
  
“You live with the humans?” Drift asked. Alarm filled him all over again. Were they prisoners? Was this just a very nice jail cell?   
  
“I do. This is Kaon University. I came here to study.”   
  
Drift’s feathers twitched. He hunched his shoulders. “Is it safe?” He lowered his voice, glancing toward the door. “Do you need help escaping?”   
  
Perceptor chuckled. “No. I’m quite welcome here.” His eyes lit up. “You are, too. If you wish to be.”   
  
“Oh. I… actually don’t know where I want to be.” Drift ducked his head, his face heating.   
  
He didn’t know where he wanted to go. He only knew he didn’t want to be home. He couldn’t bear to be surrounded by things he couldn’t have, and he certainly couldn’t bear the weight of his carrier’s expectations either. There was only so much sire could do, having lost the challenge. He was expected to bow to Carrier in all things.   
  
Drift’s stomach chose that moment to grumble. Loudly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten anything more than a handful of hunt rations – dry nuts and berries, without so much as a sip of water to keep it down.   
  
“Sorry.” Embarrassment wove a thick web around his core. Could he throw himself out the window now? Not that it would do any good since he could fly.   
  
Frag. He couldn’t even mope properly.   
  
Perceptor’s eyes widened. “No, it’s my fault. I’m a terrible host.” He hopped to his tarsals, a few feathers floating down in his wake.   
  
Drift snatched them from the air, admiring the red hue of them. So dark. Almost like spilled blood. He tucked the feather under his rump as Perceptor returned.   
  
“Here. Would you like some fruit?” Perceptor urged a thick bowl toward Drift.   
  
Several different types of fruit rolled around together in a colorful array. They smelled perfectly ripe, perfectly sweet, and Drift’s mouth watered. His belly protested emptiness once more.   
  
“Yes, please.” Drift snatched a peach and two plums. Weren’t they out of season? Did they even grow naturally here?   
  
“They are from the university’s gardens,” Perceptor explained as he returned to his chair, still cradling the bowl. “Thanks to them, I eat quite well.”   
  
“You’re lucky.”   
  
“Yes, I am.” Perceptor’s hands rubbed around the bowl as though he were nervous, which was ridiculous. Drift was much smaller than him, and his thigh was all bandaged up. “If you have your strength, perhaps after you eat I can give you a tour.”   
  
Drift licked his lips clean of peach juice. “You’re allowed to walk around?”   
  
“Yes, of course. I’m not a prisoner.”   
  
“Oh.” Drift ducked his head. He kept coming across as an idiot, didn’t he? “Are there other harpies here?”   
  
Perceptor’s smile faltered. “I’m afraid not.” His talons clicked on the edges of the bowl. “And therein lies the truth, Drift. I am selfish. I saved you for my own reasons.”   
  
Drift nibbled on the plum, trying to resist the urge to gobble it down like a savage. “You were lonely.”   
  
“Quite. I left Tyger Pax years ago,” Perceptor said. “And while the humans I’ve befriended are good company, there is nothing quite like the familiarity of one’s own kind. You are the first harpy I’ve seen, and you are surely a sight for sore eyes.”   
  
Drift nibbled on his bottom lip. “It’s been awhile. Since I had a friend,” Drift admitted. He lifted his gaze to Perceptor. “Maybe that makes me selfish, too. Since you look friend-shaped to me.”   
  
Perceptor laughed, and Drift’s core warmed. “I would like that very much.” He freed a hand and rested it on Drift’s arm, giving it a light squeeze. “For however long you choose to stay.”   
  
Drift’s core leapt with delight. “I’d like that,” he said, biting into the plum and failing to not make a mess. “Sorry.”   
  
Perceptor patted him on the arm before he returned to the bowl, plucking out a plum for himself. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, and messily bit into his own fruit, juices dribbling free.   
  
He winked.   
  
Drift grinned.   
  
Maybe crashlanding in the middle of Kaon wasn’t such a bad thing after all.  
  


~

  
  
Drift was, in a word, adorable. Perceptor saw in his eyes the same lost and lonely look that had haunted his own for so long, and still did.   
  
But when he smiled, Perceptor felt something within him inexplicably lurch.   
  
He did not dare take Drift far for the tour. Drift was still exhausted, and curious humans could often be over-eager. It didn’t help that Drift startled at every noise. He was especially skittish.   
  
Under Dr. Morgan’s orders, a room was cleared out next to Perceptor’s. It was for Drift’s use. As soon as Perceptor noticed Drift getting tired, he showed Drift the room that could be his, complete with hammock and harpy-approved furniture.   
  
“This is for you however long you wish to stay,” Perceptor said.   
  
Drift stood there, turning in slow circles, his eyes wide as he took in every nook and cranny of the room. It wasn’t much, though Perceptor had asked them to install a hook for Drift’s sword and sheath. The room was also equipped with two very large windows, though neither of them opened.   
  
“All of this? For me?” Drift murmured as he turned in a slow circle. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any valuables to pay for this. Or--”  
  
Perceptor cut him off with a shake of his head. “Here they value knowledge. Would you be willing to speak with them about your flock culture?”   
  
Drift’s feathers shivered. “I don’t know the human language though.” He sounded genuinely morose. “So I don’t even have that much worth.”   
  
There was something in Drift’s tone Perceptor did not like. It was painfully honest, and it made Perceptor angry, made him want to find whoever had convinced him of such a thing, and rake his claws down their face.   
  
“I’ll teach you,” Perceptor offered. “Or translate. Whichever you prefer, I mean. I don’t want to presume. Some harpies are against learning it, I know.”   
  
Drift’s gaze lifted, his eyes brightening. “I’d like to learn,” he said. His feathers fluttered, tail sweeping the floor, like an excited canine. “I mean, if you don’t mind teaching me.”   
  
“I don’t mind at all.” Perceptor lingered in the doorway, his core throbbing a thoughtful beat. “But tomorrow perhaps. You are still in need of rest.”  
  
“I do feel pretty tired.” Drift plopped his rump on the hammock, tarsals digging into the carpet to give it a playful swing. “This is nice.”   
  
Perceptor leaned a hand on the doorframe, rapping his talons against it. “I’m next door if you need anything.”   
  
“I like knowing that,” Drift said, almost offhand, before his face visibly colored, and he plucked at the blanket lining the hammock. “I mean, thank you.”   
  
“You’re very welcome.” Perceptor gestured to the switch near the door. “That is for the overhead lights and the shutters require a simple pull of the cord to open and close them. Rest well.”   
  
Drift nodded. “I will. Thank you.” He smiled, like a youngling who’d been given a gift for the first time.   
  
Perceptor tipped his head in acceptance. “Welcome to Kaon, Drift.”   
  
He stepped out, closing the door behind him, his last glimpse of Drift being a tiny smile on the smol’s face as he flopped down into the hammock with a happy sigh.   
  
What a fortuitous day.   
  


****


	2. Chapter 2

Jessica Morgan was the first human to befriend Perceptor. They’d exchanged professional letters for over a year, through a complicated arrangement of a harpy and human mail system, and it was she who had invited Perceptor to come to Kaon.   
  
Back then, Perceptor’s request with Director Compute had been denied. They wouldn’t allow him to continue his research with the humans, or allow the humans to use him as a source. Perceptor had left Tyger Pax illegally, following what he knew in his core to be something he must do.   
  
Science could not be contained by outdated rules and assumptions.   
  
They’d warned him he could be flying into a trap. The journey was long and treacherous enough Perceptor almost believed the naysayers.   
  
But Dr. Morgan greeted him with open arms. She’d arranged a place for him to stay, and had even gathered all the equipment he’d need to continue his own research. She gave him an expense account. She stood by his side, even when the other humans feared Perceptor’s sharp teeth and sharper talons.   
  
Years ago, she’d been a graduate student lobbying hard for further study into harpy culture and biology. It had been her robust thesis which spawned the Avian Studies program now available at Kaon. She spearheaded it, with Chancellor Shen’s approval, and her excitement at meeting a harpy had been palpable even from their first meeting.   
  
She would adore Drift, Perceptor was sure of it.   
  
Drift was allowed to stay thanks to Dr. Morgan. Meeting her was as much a courtesy as it was a requirement. Perceptor had already informed her they would be stopping by, so he wasn’t surprised when Dr. Morgan’s receptionist ushered them in the moment they arrived. Her wide-eyed stare was most amusing.   
  
Had she not paid attention to her boss’ area of expertise?   
  
“Maria, I’ll need several copies of this, collated and stapled, before my next class,” Dr. Morgan – or Jessica as she’d insisted Perceptor call her -- was saying as the door opened. She sat behind her desk, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, her curly hair falling over her shoulders.   
  
“Yes, ma’am. But you have visitors,” Maria said with a loud clearing of her throat. “Feathery ones.”   
  
“Feathery… what?” Jessica looked up, and her eyes widened with delight. She leapt up from her chair, it rolling with a thud from behind her. “Perceptor! You’re early.”   
  
“Do you ever know me to be anything but?” he asked, terribly amused.   
  
Maria gathered up a stack of papers from the desk – perhaps the ones that needed to be copied – and edged out of the room, closing the door behind her.   
  
“True, true.” Jessica swept off her glasses and rested them on her desk. “I suppose I’m to blame for losing track of time.” She grabbed a handful of curls and tossed them behind her shoulder.   
  
It was only then she noticed Drift.   
  
“You brought him!” Jessica darted around the table, her heeled shoes going clonk-clonk-clonk on the hardwood. “Oh my gosh, Percy. He’s beautiful!”   
  
She rushed forward before Perceptor could get a word out, her enthusiasm superseding everything. Drift made an absolutely adorable squeak of alarm, looking at once like a cornered rabbit.   
  
He ducked behind Perceptor, huddling against his back. Jessica drew up short, her gaze darting to Perceptor in concern.   
  
Perceptor had to hide his grin. “He’s a bit shy when it comes to humans.”   
  
“Oh, I understand!” Jessica ducked her head, abashed. “I apologize. I was just so excited to meet another harpy.” She leaned to the side, trying to peer around Perceptor. “I’m sorry for startling you.”   
  
“He doesn’t speak English unfortunately. I intend to teach him.”   
  
Jessica straightened. “Then you two speak the same dialects?”   
  
“We speak a universal dialect, but we have our own tongues as well.” Perceptor shifted to face Drift, placing a gentle arm around the smol’s shoulders and urging him forward. “Drift, this is Dr. Morgan. I assure you, she means us no harm. She’s merely enthusiastic and curious.”   
  
Drift eased out from behind Perceptor. “Nice to meet you.” He dipped his head, crest feathers canting forward.   
  
Jessica’s smile broadened. “Some things are universal, aren’t they? I might not have understood what he said, but I recognize the gesture.” She stuck out her hand and approached Drift much more slowly this time. “Hello, Drift. Welcome to Kaon. I’m so glad you’re here.”   
  
Drift took her hand. He smiled.   
  
Some things were universal indeed.   
  
“And don’t listen to Mr. Stiffness over here,” Jessica added with a wink. “You can call me, Jessica. I don’t stand on ceremony around here.”   
  
Drift kept shaking her hand and smiling.   
  
Perceptor chuckled and rested a hand over theirs, gently extricating Drift’s from Jessica’s. “For now, I will translate, but I’m sure he’ll learn English quickly enough.”   
  
“That’s great!” Jessica spun away from them, walking back behind her desk at a fast clip. “Have a seat and we can get started. Help yourself to any of the refreshments here. Let it not be said I’m not a generous host.”   
  
“You are always quite gracious.” Perceptor urged Drift to a chair and gestured for him to sit.   
  
Drift did so, but warily. He still eyed Jessica like she wanted to eat him, and he pressed into his chair as far back from her as he could. He also poked at the frame and cushion of it, as if fascinated by its construction.   
  
Perceptor chuckled to himself. My, but Drift was adorable. He pulled out a chair of his own and made himself comfortable. Jessica had indeed provided a basket of fruit, no doubt locally grown, and Perceptor grabbed something for himself.   
  
“Have whatever you want,” he told Drift as Jessica watched them with owl-like fascination. She loved the harpy language and wished heartily she could duplicate the musical sounds of it.   
  
Unfortunately, human vocal chords had difficulty with many of the tones and cadences.   
  
“So,” Perceptor said as he rested one hand in his lap and started nibbling on the offered peach, “where should we begin?”   
  
“Everywhere.” The phrase ‘stars dancing in one’s eyes’ must have begun with a researcher having ample opportunity to interview the subject of their thesis.   
  
Perceptor chuckled. “Then we’ll start at the beginning.” He gave Drift a look and patted him on the knee, shifting to their native tongue. “I hope you got a lot of sleep last night.”   
  
The look of wide-eyed wonder Drift gave him in return was priceless.   
  


~

  
  
Afterward, they went out for something Perceptor called ‘ice cream’. It was cold and sweet and if Drift ate it too fast, it made his head ache. But he enjoyed the icy bite of it, and he liked that he had to eat it slowly, licking around and around it. Perceptor told him his flavor was called ‘cherry garcia’ and while it didn’t taste like any cherry Drift had ever eaten, it was good.   
  
Drift even liked the munchy thing it was served in – waffle cone, Perceptor called it.   
  
They walked as they ate, heading toward the ‘greenhouse’. Drift had wanted to see where they grew the plants on campus, and Perceptor agreed to show him.   
  
They gathered a lot of stares, Drift noticed. It made him a little uneasy. He wasn’t used to being noticed. In Tesaurus, he’d been nigh invisible. With so many pretty smols wandering around, no one took notice of a dull one. No one except Gasket, and Carrier said Gasket didn’t count because he wasn’t a suitable mate candidate anyway.   
  
Sometimes, Drift wondered if Carrier’s decision to take the post in Iacon had less to do with wanting to be a Fencemaster in his own right, and more to do with wanting Drift away from Gasket. If only Sire had been a bit more insistent, but then, that wasn’t the way things worked in Tesaurus.   
  
Sire had lost. Carrier was in charge.   
  
It had been different in Iacon. Not better, but different. Drift still was an unappealing smol, but for entirely different reasons. In Iacon, no one wanted a smol who could defend himself, who was more skilled with the blade than half the baras in the army or the defensive forces. Especially not a smol as dull and uninteresting as Drift.   
  
It was a new rejection, same as the old.   
  
“Drift?”   
  
He blinked out of the memories and looked over at Perceptor, whose beautiful ocean-blue eyes squinted with concern. “Are you all right?”   
  
“Sorry. Was lost in thought.” He ducked his head and focused on his ice cream again. It had started to melt over his fingertips. Oh dear.   
  
“Anything you care to share?”   
  
By Adaptus, no. Drift gave himself a moment to think as he licked his fingers clean. The last thing he wanted to do was tell Perceptor how much no one wanted him. That would be pathetic, and he wanted to keep Perceptor as a friend. Not frighten the bara away with his sob story.   
  
“Just thinking about home,” Drift finally said, keeping it vague. “Answering Ms. Jessica’s questions reminded me, is all.”   
  
He couldn’t fathom simply calling her ‘Jessica’. It rankled against every form of polite address he’d been taught.   
  
“Ah. Leave someone behind?” Perceptor asked as he nibbled on his own ice cream. He’d had some kind of caramel dipped vanilla cone, and Drift loved watching him lick around the hard, candy shell.   
  
Drift’s face heated. “Not in the way you’re thinking.” He focused hard on his ice cream. “Gasket was a friend, and we were sort of like that, but not really. We never had a chance to be.”   
  
“Because you left?”   
  
“Yeah.” Drift rolled his shoulders, trying to be nonchalant. “But when opportunity knocks, you have to answer, right?”   
  
“Whether or not you have to depends on whether or not you want to,” Perceptor replied, words spoken as though carefully chosen. “You left for Iacon because of your Carrier, yes?”   
  
“I left for me, too,” Drift insisted, not sure why he suddenly felt defensive. “The Ultra wanted someone closer to his youngling’s age to train him. So I’d be the perfect candidate, once I’d finished my own lessons. It was a great opportunity.”   
  
“Was,” Perceptor echoed with a pointed lick of his ice cream. “But you left before you could take advantage of that. Why?”   
  
Drift bit down on the ice cream, more than was comfortable, but it kept him from saying something he’d probably regret.   
  
“This is a sensitive subject for you I see,” Perceptor murmured. “I apologize. I won’t push. Perhaps you’d be interested in sharing your journey here instead? The distance from Iacon to Kaon is no small trip.”   
  
Heat flared darker in Drift’s face. His journey was no sweeter tale. He’d left Iacon without a plan, a map, and with only the barest minimum of supplies. He’d left because he couldn’t stay anymore. He hadn’t intended to go to Kaon. He’d just wanted to get away.   
  
It had been a long, hard year between Kaon and Iacon. Not all of it pleasant.   
  
The six months he’d spent in Helex and their gladiating pits, for example, had almost been enough to have him tuck his tail between his legs and slink back to Iacon, begging forgiveness of his Carrier for his impetuous actions. Luckily, he’d had enough sense to use a pseudonym. No one would be able to trace him by name alone. His dull appearance had served him well there.   
  
Helex was a lot closer to Kaon than Iacon. He’d been lucky, fleeing Helex and stumbling on a place that would give him shelter. Otherwise, who knows where he would have ended up. Perhaps with the wrong humans, those more interested in the slave trade.   
  
Or worse, the ones who killed harpies and harvested their parts for disgusting rituals and false medicines.   
  
Drift shuttered.   
  
“Not much to tell, I’m afraid,” Drift said after he swallowed the mouthful, desperate to change his line of thought. “I wandered all over Cybertron, avoiding human settlements as much as possible, doing small jobs to earn a place to stay while foraging in the forests for food. I knew I wanted a fresh start somewhere, but wasn’t sure where I could find it.”   
  
“Did you ever roam by Tyger Pax?”  
  
Drift shook his head. “No. I must have missed that one. Isn’t it up in the mountains?”   
  
“It is.”   
  
“Never crossed the mountains.” He’d been to Helex at the base of them, he’d climbed halfway up their massive peaks during his flight, but he’d never gone over or through them. Perhaps he should have.   
  
But then, if he had, his flight wouldn’t have taken him to Kaon, but to whatever city-state was on the other side. He wouldn’t have met Perceptor or gotten to taste ice cream.   
  
Drift crunched into the cone, and made a pleased sound when he discovered that the ice cream had softened it some, but it remained crunchy. “This is good stuff. Thanks for showing me.”   
  
“My pleasure,” Perceptor replied. He even sounded like he meant it. “Perhaps one day I can show you my home aerie. If by some miracle I am allowed back.”   
  
Drift blinked. He couldn’t imagine someone as kind as Perceptor doing something so illegal as to be exiled. “Why wouldn’t you be?”   
  
“Research alongside humans is expressly forbidden by my flock.” Perceptor delicately peeled a paper wrapper from around the bottom of his cone. “Allowing the humans to study us in return is equally abominable. It is a cardinal rule, isn’t it? That a harpy should never trust a human.”   
  
“But you did.”   
  
“Indeed I did.” Perceptor licked his cone, tongue curling to swipe up a stray drop of ice cream. Drift pointedly stared harder at his own treat. “I went against my Director and the assembly to do so. I am certain by now that I’ve probably been stripped of my degree, my rank, and my grant.”  
  
Drift growled in his throat. “That’s awful. I thought Tyger Pax was supposed to be all about scientific advancement and the pursuit of the truth?”   
  
Perceptor’s lips pursed together, his eyebrows drawing down. “Everything has two faces,” he finally said, after a moment’s quiet. “And the truth is rarely pretty or safe. Humans are dangerous, so we’ve been told. And to associate with them invites danger to the rest of my flock.”   
  
“You sound like you agree with them.” Drift squinted at his new friend.   
  
“In some ways, I do.” Perceptor plucked a piece of caramel from his cone and popped it into his mouth. “I took enormous risk coming here. But if I had been wrong, and the humans used me to get to my flock, I will have shared my risk with those who hadn’t consented to it.”   
  
“Oh.” Drift supposed Perceptor had a point. “But it all turned out okay. They should let bygones be bygones then.”   
  
Perceptor shook his head. “The point isn’t that I was right and these humans are nothing to fear. The point is that I disobeyed and broke the law. There are consequences for everything. It is a… scientific fact.” He smiled, though it was wan. “I do not regret it, however. I feel I am meant to be here in Kaon.”   
  
“You weren’t happy in Tyger Pax?”   
  
“I wasn’t unhappy. I simply was not fulfilled nor satisfied nor content.” Perceptor popped the last of the ice cream into his mouth, licking his lips to clean them. “Now I am getting closer to all three.”   
  
Drift grinned. “I’m glad.”   
  
“As am I.”   
  
Drift ate every last bite of the ice cream, except for the small paper wrapper around the bottom. Perceptor showed him where to properly dispose of it. Then they rounded one of the building’s corners, and Drift’s eyes widened. A massive construction of glass and metal rose in front of him, glinting in the afternoon sun, so bright he had to shield his eyes from it.   
  
“This is the greenhouse, or well, one of them at any rate. They have several around campus,” Perceptor said as he strode toward it without so much as a wince. “This particular one grows plants suited for an arid climate, so it may be a little dry and hot in there. Fair warning.”   
  
“I can handle it,” Drift said.   
  
Perceptor smiled at him. “I’m sure you can.”   
  
They took a stone path that wound toward a pair of double-doors, equally glass and metal, but Perceptor pushed a button on a nearby column, and the doors swung open to grant them access. Even more incredible was that neither he nor Perceptor needed to stoop to go inside. The humans had made the doorway plenty large enough, even for a bara like Perceptor.   
  
A hot gush of air smacked Drift in the face. His feathers stood on end, instantly lifting for better heat dispersal. It was ten times warmer inside the greenhouse than outside of it. His nose twitched as the scent of greenery flooded his senses. They had to walk through a small corridor, with a trellis made of wood and crawling with ivy overhead. When they emerged, Drift was amazed for the third time that morning.   
  
There was so much green. It was like being in the forest, except he looked up and saw the glass surrounding them and knew they were inside a building. Water trickled somewhere, and there was the crashing noise of a waterfall, too. Narrow paths made of river rock coiled lazily across the floor, as plants grew and dripped into the walkway, both cultivated and natural.   
  
“What do you think?” Perceptor asked.   
  
“It’s amazing,” Drift said, absently following as Perceptor took him down the right-hand path. It was just wide enough for them to walk side by side. “I never knew such a variety of plants existed. Where do things such as these grow?”   
  
“Some of them are native to my aerie, Tyger Pax. Others are from further west. You’d probably know them as the Salt Flats. Some have been flown in from as far as the Barrens.”   
  
Drift couldn’t resist trailing his fingers through the vegetation. One of them, however, bit him. He jerked his fingers back, sticking the hurt one into his mouth.   
  
“Be careful.” Perceptor sounded amused. “Some of them have spines or thorns, like a blackberry bush. There are a few who are even toxic, though the university is careful to put signs on those and make them harder to reach.”   
  
His finger stung. Drift laved it with his tongue to soothe the ache. “An advance warning would have been nice.”   
  
“It doesn’t hurt that much,” Perceptor teased. “But if it makes you feel better, I can kiss it.”   
  
Drift’s face heated. His crest feathers reared back. “Why would you do that?”   
  
Perceptor blinked. “Did your parents not kiss your aches when you were young? As a way of soothing you?”   
  
“My Carrier didn’t believe in such methods.” Drift frowned. “Or at least, I don’t think he would have. Bandages are far more effective.” Carrier was more likely to tell him he had to prove he was strong. He couldn’t cry, couldn’t show weakness, couldn’t show that it hurt.   
  
Real warriors bore pain.   
  
“That they are, but there is much to be said about the healing qualities of a carrier’s touch,” Perceptor said. “But then, I’ve always had a soft spot for the fanciful things.”   
  
Drift noisily cleared his throat. “What’s this one?” he asked, desperate to change the subject, and latching onto the nearest, brightest plant. It was very green.   
  
And spiky.   
  
Drift kept his hands to himself.   
  
“That is a  _Schlumbergera truncata_ , better known as holiday cactus. They tend to be individually named by whatever holiday they bloom nearest to.” Perceptor moved closer, peering at the buds on the plant. “This is an Equinox variety.”   
  
“Equinox?”   
  
“It will bloom twice a year, around the spring and fall equinoxes.” Perceptor carefully placed a talon against the slightly barbed leaves. “Which is why it is in bloom now.”   
  
“It’s pretty,” Drift murmured. Even if something similar had nipped his fingertip, this particular plant appealed to him. He liked the idea of a flower that bloomed twice a year. “Is it easy to care for?”   
  
“Oh, yes. They are very hardy.” Perceptor peered at him. “Would you like one?”  
  
Drift looked up at Perceptor, startled. “What?”   
  
Perceptor reached around him, the pads of his fingers gentle as it curled around the purple flower. “Would you like one? They sell them potted for students to take back to their dorms, since they don’t need as much care as other plants.”   
  
“Oh. I couldn’t ask you to--”  
  
“See, the funny thing is, you didn’t.” Perceptor had the audacity to wink at him before he swished away in a whirl of feathers. “You like the purple flowers best, right? I’ll get one of those for you.”   
  
“But…” Drift’s protest died on his lips. His core gave a quick, warm throb, and he pressed his palm to his chest. That was weird. His core had never done that before.   
  
Drift hurried to catch up to Perceptor, who had become a bara on a mission. He made his way through the greenhouse in several large strides, and Drift broke into a light jog so he wouldn’t lose sight of him.   
  
Perceptor ducked through a leaf strewn doorway ahead, and Drift plunged in after him, only to skid to a stop.  
  
The new area was completely enclosed by more glass walls, but there were shelves here, and a wood lattice. Plants dangled above them in hanging pots, their colorful flowers swaying in a breeze of unknown origin. Other potted plants sat on shelves with stakes poking out of the soil, numbers carefully painted on them.   
  
Perceptor headed straight for the succulents.   
  
“You really don’t have to,” Drift blurted out as he finally caught up to the bara, though his breath caught in his throat. They were all so pretty. Part of him wanted to take every last cactus home. “I’m sure I can find a way to earn one for myself.”   
  
“Nonsense.” Perceptor selected a purple one from the bunch and eyed it carefully. “Consider it a housewarming gift.”   
  
“But--”  
  
Perceptor pressed an index finger to Drift’s lips. “Hush.” He tucked the cactus under his arm. “I’m doing this for you. No arguments. Yes?”   
  
Drift nodded against the pad of his finger, resisting the odd urge to taste it with his tongue. Perceptor smelled of fresh soil and green things, and Drift wanted to roll around on him like he would a field of flowers, painting his feathers in pollen and bits of leaf.   
  
“Good.” Perceptor smiled. Genuine and honest. He took back his hand and looked over Drift’s shoulder. He spoke something to the young lady behind the register, though Drift couldn’t pick out any of the words.   
  
She smiled and waved as if she recognized Perceptor and spoke in her human language. She had a pleasant voice. Drift bet she was a fantastic singer.   
  
Perceptor replied to her before his attention shifted back to Drift, and back to a language Drift could understand. “Artemis is putting together a kit that will help get you started and give you instructions on how to best care for the cactus.”   
  
Drift chewed on his bottom lip. “Thank you.” He ducked his head, a flush spreading through his face. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had given him a gift. At least, someone who wasn’t family.   
  
“My pleasure.” Perceptor tipped the cactus into Drift’s hands, and he cradled it carefully. “I admit, my gift comes with ulterior motives.”   
  
“It does?” Drift inhaled the scent of the cactus – greenery and earth, not really sweet like a flower. It was perfect.   
  
Perceptor chuckled. “Yes. I’m hoping if I ply you with enough plants, you’ll decide to stay.”   
  
Drift clutched the pot tighter. “I wasn’t planning on leaving,” he admitted. Though he swallowed down the latter half of it, which was, he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Kaon, at least, was nice. And he was learning so much.   
  
“Then my evil plan is working,” Perceptor replied as the cheerful cashier bounced up to them, holding a brightly colored bag.   
  
Artemis babbled briefly at Perceptor before her gaze slid sideways, and she spied Drift. Her eyes lit up, and she leaned forward, though with a lot less energy than Ms. Jessica had.   
  
Drift had no idea what she was saying, but the curiosity in her brown eyes was clear. He, in turn, was fascinated by her appearance. Her skin was a lush, soft brown, and her hair formed a fluffy halo around her head. It looked so soft.   
  
Perceptor tilted his head toward Drift, but the only words Drift recognized were his own name.   
  
Artemis smiled and offered her hand to Drift, and while he didn’t know what she was saying, she seemed friendly enough. He did recognize her name as Perceptor had said it before, so he assumed she was introducing herself.   
  
Drift dipped his head in greeting. He shook her fingers, careful of his talons.  
  
Perceptor said something else to the woman and she giggled. She winked at Drift and flounced away, leaving them alone.   
  
“Artemis is a graduate student. She’s been studying the medicinal properties of succulents for her thesis,” Perceptor explained as he gestured Drift toward the door, one hand at the small of Drift’s back to guide him.   
  
“Thesis?” Drift echoed.   
  
“Ah.” Perceptor juggled the box in his other hand. “It’s a very long paper on a specific topic that she has to submit in order to qualify for her doctorate. It means, hmm, it means she becomes legitimate in the eyes of the human collegiate.”   
  
There were a lot of words in there unfamiliar to Drift. But rather than focus on them, he preferred to focus on the soft warmth of Perceptor’s hand on his lower back. And the weight of the cactus – the gift – in his arms.   
  
“By the way, I’m pleased to hear you plan on staying.” Perceptor led Drift out another door, this one plunging them back into the warmth of the afternoon. “The humans are friendly enough, but it’s nice to be among my own kind again.”   
  
“I’m glad I met you,” Drift admitted and buried his face in his cactus, breathing in the scent of the leaves. Though he was mindful of the pointy bits. “I think I’m getting like you, too. Finding a satisfaction I didn’t know I could have.”   
  
He wouldn’t have been allowed these in Tesaurus. It wasn’t warrior’s work. But he could have them here. Could probably have more, if Perceptor was telling the truth. His core gave another thump of delight.   
  
He was so glad he’d ended up in Kaon.   
  
“Good.” Perceptor patted him on the shoulder. “Let’s get your cactus home, and then I can show you around some more. Sound good?”   
  
Drift tucked the cactus against his belly. He didn’t even mind when one of the spines gave him a gentle poke.   
  
“Sounds perfect.”   
  


****


	3. Chapter 3

Time spent with Drift quickly became the highlight of Perceptor’s days.   
  
While Drift recovered, Perceptor taught him English, impressed by how quick of a study he was. Within a month’s time, he was able to carry on a conversation with Jessica on his own, though some of the more complicated concepts required explanation here and there.   
  
He was able to interact with the other humans as well. He could go to the greenhouse on his own, and purchase every plant he wanted. Especially with Artemis’ assistance. The two of them became fast friends.   
  
Drift was an absolute delight. While most harpies would have been hesitant to learn more about humans, once Drift realized Kaon was safe, he threw himself into their culture. He was eager to sample their foods, their entertainment.   
  
He loved movies with a voracity Perceptor found endearing. He’d sit in front of the television with attached VCR player – easier for harpy fingers to finagle – and push in movie after movie, while he consumed popcorn like it was its own food group. He was particularly fond of the foreign action films with their choreographed fight scenes, their terribly dubbed voice acting, and absurd premises.   
  
A month passed. Two.   
  
Spring turned to Summer, hot and humid. The campus emptied as students went home for the semester, and only a small number remained behind. It was quieter, less busy, but no less engaging. It also granted them more freedom, as there were less students to stare, and less students to bother.   
  
Not everyone was as comfortable with a harpy on the premises as Jessica and Artemis.   
  
Perceptor had grown used to his solitude while he conducted his research. But Drift was a welcome interruption. He was fascinated by everything. He asked questions. Or he sat silently if Perceptor asked him to do so, often times curled up with a book – children’s readers at first, and then more advanced novels as his English vocabulary broadened. His hands were as nimble as Perceptor’s own, so when Perceptor needed an extra pair of them, Drift leapt into action.   
  
Drift’s room became a mini-greenhouse with all of the plants he collected. They hung in the windows and draped over the shelves and grew across the walls – in the case of the devil’s ivy. He seemed to have a green thumb, encouraging his flora to grow with very little effort. It delighted him, this small ability, and his eyes were bright and his smile broad as he introduced Perceptor to each new acquisition.   
  
Some of them even had names. Drift squirmed and rubbed the back of his head as he pointed to his very first purchase, the cactus Perceptor had given him as a gift, and said he’d named it ‘Percy’.   
  
Summer grew hotter and heavier. Perceptor introduced Drift to the pool, and while the scent of chlorine and bleach was nauseating, the cool water was a blessing. Drift took to water like a duck. He splashed in the pool like a youngling, and Perceptor resolved to one day take him to Glass Lake, below Glass Falls.   
  
Late evenings found Drift practicing with his sword. He ran through a series of exercises, body moving in elegant shapes and twirls, the sword an extension of his arm.   
  
There was a courtyard in the local quad, and Drift found it the perfect space for his exercises. Perceptor watched as often as he could, enraptured by the motions, and the focus on Drift’s face. Often, they drew a crowd of human admirers, and Drift always flushed when they bombarded him with questions. Jessica filmed him more than a few times.   
  
“For research,” she said with a wink.   
  
Perceptor might have asked her for copies of the videos.   
  
Jessica and Drift spent many hours, heads bent together, Jessica diligently scribbling down notes while Drift talked of Tesaurus. Perceptor sat nearby, listening without comment. He’d never been to Tesaurus, but he’d heard it had a very warrior-like culture, and to go by Drift’s tales, the rumors were correct. Hierarchies were constructed around one’s skill with a sword.   
  
When asked why he left, Drift changed the subject.   
  
Even in private, he would only say, “It wasn’t home,” a shadow passing through his eyes. Perceptor didn’t push.   
  
Drift would share when he was ready. Or never. It was entirely up to him. His past was his own business. Sometimes, wounds weren’t ready to be lanced.   
  
Perceptor let it be.   
  
Time passed slowly, but not the drag of day by day drudgery. Rather, it was the savoring of moments, where loneliness evaporated in the heat of the summer sun and Drift by his side. Perceptor had gotten accustomed to being alone. He’d thought Drift’s constant presence in his life – shared meal times, walks, personal interests – would grate soon enough.   
  
That it never did was a sign. For weeks, Perceptor wasn’t sure what that sign was.   
  
It wasn’t until Drift smiled at him, before he tasted crème brulee for the first time, and Perceptor’s core throbbed that he realized he might be in trouble. Drift’s soft moan of utter delight had shot heat elsewhere, and Perceptor found himself interested in another for the first time in his life.   
  
He’d had partners before, of course, but was more a matter of happenstance rather than desire or need. It was a thing one did. It was a biological urge. His partners had been diligent and adequate, and he’d walked away satisfied, at least physically. He’d never considered himself discontented in any other way because no other criteria had been important to him.   
  
Therefore the desire to taste Drift, to see if he were as sweet as the dessert, baffled him. For the first time, Perceptor  _wanted_ , and it threw him for a loop. He didn’t know what to do with such a desire.   
  
He begged off breakfast the next day, citing the need for utter silence for a complicated equation, because he needed the time and solitude to examine his feelings. To examine his  _wants_ , such odd and unusual sensations he’d never had stirring in his belly. He paced the circumference of the room, hands clasped behind his back, muttering to himself.   
  
There was of course one rather large question: did he truly desire Drift, or was it merely because Drift was the first harpy Perceptor had interacted with for a decade? That one was easy enough to answer. If Drift had been an unkind, uncouth person who wrinkled Perceptor’s nose, and he still desired Drift, then it was only biology. But Drift was kind and funny, charming and gentle. Liking him was the easy part.   
  
Desiring him was the mystery. Drift was visually appealing. He had a striking appearance, and his somewhat lopsided smile was absolutely charming. Perceptor had been around many smols in Tyger Pax, smols of average intelligence and genius intelligence, who were both gorgeous and plain, and none of them had made his core throb the way Drift did.   
  
He could therefore only conclude that he did, in fact, like Drift. Not just because his body had a need and wanted Drift to satisfy it, but because his core had a desire, and felt Drift matched what Perceptor sought in a mate. How unexpected.   
  
What were the chances, Perceptor pondered. How lucky that Drift should find his way to Kaon and be the only harpy Perceptor had ever met who he genuinely desired. How fortuitous.   
  
How… terrifying.   
  
Whatever was he to do next?  
  
Perceptor spun at the end of his route and started pacing again.   
  
He suspected the courtship rituals in Tesaurus vastly differed from what was called courtship in Tyger Pax. In many ways, Tyger Pax was a lot simpler. If you were interested in another harpy, you simply stated so, and they either declined or accepted the other, scheduling it for a moment convenient to both parties. Sometimes, more than one party if invited.   
  
Drift, however, was shy. Skittish even. A frank request might ruin the friendship they’d built. Above all else, Perceptor didn’t want to lose Drift as a friend. He did not know how casual rutting could be among the Tesaurans.   
  
Did he dare risk that friendship for a chance at something more? Or should he be content with what they had already?   
  
A quandary indeed.   
  
Perhaps a few days of observation would tell. A chance to truly examine whether or not this was what he desired. Perhaps it was only a moment of whimsy, nothing more. He didn’t want to risk friendship over a flight of fancy. Better then to be cautious. Patient.   
  
Fortunately, Perceptor had both in spades.   
  
He only wished he had someone in whom to confide. A confidant, so to speak. Jessica was trustworthy, but she could sometimes let her zest for her research override her common sense. He wanted advice, not for his attraction to be put under a microscope.   
  
His door chimed.   
  
Perceptor stopped mid-stride, cocking his head with curiosity. Whoever could that be? It wasn’t as though he received many direct visitors. Most students were fine with seeing him out and about on campus, but they weren’t keen on being isolated near him.   
  
He answered the door.   
  
Drift stood on the other side, his hands tucked behind his back, a look of hesitation on his face. “I hope I’m not interrupting your calculations,” he said with a worried smile.   
  
Perceptor’s core throbbed again. “Not at all.” He stepped aside. “Come on in. I was actually about to see if you wanted to join me for lunch.”   
  
“Definitely!” Drift perked up, his crest feathers twitching. “But um, first. I wanted to give you something.”   
  
Perceptor shut the door. “Oh?” He turned to face Drift, who’d paused in the middle of the room, hands still behind his back.   
  
“It’s not much.” Drift’s face took on a rosy hue. One foot talon scraped at the carpet. “I was going to give it to you this morning, but you were busy. I didn’t want to wait anymore though. So...” He trailed off. “Anyway. Here you go.”   
  
He brought his hands forward and shoved a brightly, if not haphazardly, wrapped package toward Perceptor. It was tied off with a neat ribbon, and Perceptor had to wonder if Drift had engaged a human’s assistance. The curlicues in the ribbon were difficult to pull off with talons.   
  
“How kind,” Perceptor took care, but his talons still poked through the delicate wrapping. “But you did not have to get me anything.”   
  
Drift ducked his head and scratched the back of his neck. “I know, but I wanted to say thank you and well, I just wanted to.” His feather tufts ruffled.  
  
Perceptor carefully plucked at the delicate, bright paper. “Then I will accept it for the kindness it is. Thank you, Drift.”   
  
“It’s not much.” Drift’s fingers tangled together, shoulders hunched, like he was waiting to be chastised, and it broke Perceptor’s core.   
  
Who had worked so hard to crush the gentleness within him?   
  
“It is a gift from the core,” Perceptor murmured. “It will be much no matter what it is.”   
  
No sooner had he spoken then the paper fell away, revealing an intriguing snarl of wire, gemstone, and colored glass. Perceptor grasped a visible, thick knot and pulled it up, his eyes widening in surprise. Wire draped down in a tangle, occasionally woven with well-placed gemstones. It sparkled in the light.   
  
Not much?   
  
Drift was sorely mistaken.   
  
“Drift, this is beautiful.” He let it dangle from his fingers, and as it spun, rainbows danced on the walls. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Where did you get this?”   
  
Drift’s feather tufts twitched. “I made it.”   
  
“You...” Perceptor was at a loss for words. Drift acted as though it was a terrible thing for him to have offered something handmade. As if it was mere garbage. “It’s amazing.”   
  
“It’s just some scrap I put together. It’s nothing special.” Drift fidgeted and gnawed on his bottom lip. “I wanted to get you a new scope instead but--”  
  
“But nothing.” Perceptor carefully placed the windchime on his desk and took Drift’s hands with his own, pulling him closer. “There is no gift treasured greater than that which comes from the core. Thank you.”   
  
Drift’s eyes widened. His hands shook where Perceptor held them. Had he truly feared Perceptor would hate the gift?  
  
“You really like it?” There was a note in his voice, disbelief and uncertainty mingled together, and Perceptor’s core gave another twang.   
  
He wanted to sweep Drift into his arms and never let go. He wanted to kiss the smol senseless, whisper the most encouraging, true words into Drift’s ear. He wanted Drift to understand just how special he was.   
  
And then he wanted to hunt down the harpy responsible for making him think otherwise.   
  
“I do. I wonder how I became so lucky as to receive such a gift,” Perceptor said gently. He was bothered by how little Drift seemed to value his own efforts. Why did he consider himself so unworthy?  
  
Drift sucked his bottom lip into his mouth before he released it. “I just wanted to give you something nice. Because…” He trailed off and abruptly found the floor fascinating.   
  
Perceptor waited for Drift to finish, but silence seemed to have grabbed hold of him. He wouldn’t meet Perceptor’s eyes, but he also didn’t let go of Perceptor’s hands. If anything, he seemed to shift closer. A visible tremor ran through his body.   
  
Perhaps..  
  
Perhaps Drift had been not unlike Perceptor, grappling with unexpected emotion and wondering how to approach it. Was the gift a gesture? A single drop of courage to gauge how Perceptor felt about Drift in return?   
  
There was only one thing to do.   
  
Return Drift’s courage with a single drop of his own.   
  
Perceptor freed one hand, but only so he could cup Drift’s cheek, encouraging Drift to look up at him. He shifted closer, until their faces were inches apart, and Drift’s beautiful blue eyes were focused on him.   
  
“Because--” Perceptor swallowed over a lump of fright in his throat, “--because you wanted to show me that you care, yes?”   
  
Drift’s hand twitched. His face warmed under Perceptor’s fingers. “If I said yes, would that ruin things for us?”   
  
“Not at all.” Perceptor stroked over Drift’s cheek. “I care greatly for you as well.”   
  
Drift’s lips parted on a surprised exhale. “What?”   
  
“You are my friend, and I cherish you for that alone. But lately I’ve found myself wanting more. Desiring you as a lover does,” Perceptor explained. Another tremble ran through Drift before his free hand clasped onto Perceptor’s hip, talons shaking. “And if you’d allow me, I’d love to kiss you. May I?”   
  
“Adaptus,” Drift breathed, his lips parting. His tongue flicked over them, making his mouth shiny-wet with invitation. “Yes, Perceptor. Yes, please do.”   
  
Perceptor pressed his mouth over Drift’s, cutting off the breathy string of agreement, swallowing Drift’s startled inhale. Drift tasted sweet, like he’d been munching on the berries he kept in his room, and he made a noise in his throat, like that of surrender.   
  
He pressed against Perceptor, tongue nudging at the seam of Perceptor’s lips. His arm curled around Perceptor, tugging him nearer, and it was easy enough then to wrap his arms around Drift, and deepen the kiss. To pull the heat of the smol against him, and taste the berries on Drift’s lips.   
  
Something in his core settled then. Something that had been building to an ache for the past few weeks until it was impossible to ignore.   
  
He wanted this. Wanted Drift. There was no mistake about it.   
  
Reluctantly, Perceptor broke his lips from Drift’s, pressing their foreheads together. He closed his eyes, Drift’s exhales puffing against his kiss-slick lips.   
  
“Adaptus,” Drift murmured again, shakily. “I was so sure I was wrong. That I was making a terrible mistake. I thought I’d be lucky just to have your friendship, and it was egotistic of me to think you’d want more.”   
  
Perceptor cradled Drift’s face, holding it as something precious. “Then you were quite wrong indeed. Because I want you very much. If you’ll have me.”   
  
A hungry noise warbled in Drift’s throat. “Kiss me again.” His tongue swept over his lips. “Just to be sure.”   
  
Warm humor bubbled up in Perceptor’s core.   
  
He sealed his lips over Drift’s again as Drift melted against him. Their bodies molded together, feathers rustling. Drift clutched him close, talons shaking, as though he feared Perceptor would vanish in a puff of smoke.   
  
All of the confusion vanished. It felt  _right_ , in a way no scientific measurement could quantify or qualify.   
  
Drift was what Perceptor had been searching for in another.   
  
He was sure of it.   
  


***


	4. Chapter 4

The handmade windchimes took pride of place in Perceptor’s window. He could roll over first thing in the morning and watch the dawn sparkle through the bits of colored glass.  
  
Or at least, that was what he told Drift, setting off a rampaging throb of emotion in Drift’s core. He’d flushed to the tips of his ears, and Percepter had chuckled and swept him up in a thick embrace and a sweet kiss.   
  
Perceptor liked his gift. There was no greater compliment.   
  
Summer cooled into fall. Their friendship remained, deepening into something stronger. Warmer.   
  
The local vegetation shifted in color, from brilliant greens to an array of oranges, reds, and yellows. Perceptor took Drift flying over the forest for which Kaon was famous. What once had been a vast, swaying carpet of emerald was now flush with pearls of color. Drift had never seen anything like it.   
  
Tesaurus was forested, but the trees were needled, pines and juniper and conifer. Evergreens and the like controlled the canopies while moss-covered shrubs and huge swathes of fern dominated the underbrush. It only browned in the severe winter months, skipping over the slow color shift.  
  
Iacon had been a glittering city of glass and wood. The only natural growth to be found had been in cultivated parks and recreational areas, as if Iacon was determined to mimic the humans in every possible way.   
  
Kaon was something else altogether. Beautiful, in a single word.   
  
The trees here were also the largest Drift had ever seen.   
  
Perceptor said that it was because the entire forest was protected by provincial law. It was old-growth, the trees untouched by human hands for centuries, and now protected from deforesting or destruction. The forest was allowed to freely grow and thrive without any kind of human intervention.   
  
They landed at the very edge of the forest and proceeded the rest of the way on foot. There was a path through the trees and underbrush – a game trail according to Perceptor – and it was chillier in the dim. The forest formed a thick canopy above them. Drift felt small in the shadows of the massive trees, each easily large enough to house a single harpy family. Or even a harpy clan.   
  
Mid-morning and a light mist rose from the leaf-carpeted ground. It cloaked the underbrush in a haze, like magic. There were underground streams, Perceptor explained. They ran through the bedrock like a lattice, and beneath those were rivers of magma, which made the streams just below boiling. There were several natural hot springs in the area. Kaon’s warmer climate, even in winter, was probably due to these numerous thermal vents.   
  
“This is amazing,” Drift breathed as he trailed his fingers through the underbrush.   
  
He couldn’t resist touching. There weren’t any cacti here to attack him, though he did spy the occasional blackberry bush, growing in the rare patch of sunlight.  
  
“It is,” Perceptor agreed. “But it’s the heart of the forest which holds something truly special.”   
  
The deeper they traveled, the larger the trees became, their trunks thicker around than Drift was tall. The sun tried to break through the dense canopy, but only managed in dappled spots across the ground. Drift inhaled deeply, dragging in the scent of earth and flora, his core comfortably at peace.   
  
Perceptor’s fingers brushed against his, and Drift grinned as he brushed back. And then their fingers tangled, as Perceptor slowed to keep apace with Drift, so they could walk hand in hand.   
  
A thrill ran through Drift’s core. They’d only allowed their relationship to turn romantic for a couple months, and they’d gone no farther than kissing and snuggling. It was actually nice, this slow pace. It felt meaningful.   
  
Drift was in no rush to take Perceptor to nest, though it wasn’t because he didn’t want to. Perceptor was beautiful. He was strong and intelligent, and he treated Drift like a person who mattered, someone who deserved affection. Besides, when had a quick romp in the nest brought him anything but pain?   
  
This… this was important. Drift wanted it to last. He didn’t want to ruin it at all.   
  
Perceptor squeezed his hand. “What are you thinking about?”   
  
Drift’s face flooded with heat. “You,” he admitted.   
  
“Is that so?” Perceptor smiled, and his eyes sparkled with humor. Coming from him, it always felt genuine rather than mocking. Drift adored that. “What about me?”   
  
“Well, it’s more about me.” Drift nibbled on his bottom lip, looking away. “How lucky I am, you know. That you want to be with me. I mean, I know you don’t have many other options but--”  
  
“Drift.” Perceptor squeezed his hand and stopped. He curled a knuckle under Drift’s chin, tilting his head up. “It is not a lack of options that drives my interest in you, and it breaks my core you think so little of yourself to assume such.”   
  
Drift swallowed over a massive lump in his throat. “I know what I am, Percy. I’m not the greatest catch. You’re amazing. You deserve someone equally amazing.”   
  
He was plain, especially for a smol, and a touch too big to catch the eye of even the most affable of baras. He wasn’t smart enough for someone like Perceptor. He had no credit to his name, no special skill, nothing to show for his life. He was average in every way.   
  
“Then lucky for  _me_  I have found someone who is even more incredible than I am.” Perceptor brushed his lips over Drift’s, even the brief contact enough to send a tide of warmth through Drift’s veins. “And he’s standing right in front of me, with the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.”   
  
Heat banked at the back of Drift’s eyes. “You don’t have to sweet-talk me.” He licked his lips, tasting Perceptor on them. It was okay, he told himself. Even if Perceptor did change his mind later. “I’m already yours.”   
  
Perceptor sighed and cupped Drift’s cheek. “Have you ever known me to lie?”   
  
“No, but--”  
  
“Then why do you think when I call you beautiful I don’t actually mean it?” Perceptor sounded hurt, and guilt swamped Drift.   
  
He stared hard into the woods, watching a curl of mist rise up to embrace a bramble bush. It was closer to noon now, and the mist was already beginning to dissipate.   
  
How could he even begin to explain his own inadequacies? Why would he want to remind Perceptor of all the reasons the bara should pick someone else?   
  
“I--”  
  
“When I say I have never truly desired another until I met you, do you also believe that to be a lie?” Perceptor continued, his words coming quicker now, sharp like a pain. “Are my feelings nothing but misunderstandings? When I say I adore you, I want to keep you, forever if I can, am I only speaking pretty to seduce you into my nest?”   
  
“Of course not!” Drift blurted out, his core throbbing harder and harder. He jerked his gaze back to Perceptor. His talons carded through the feather tufts around Perceptor’s shoulders. “You wouldn’t do that. You’re not that kind of person. You… you…”   
  
Perceptor drew their foreheads together. “Shh. I know. It’s hard to believe. You won’t tell me why, and I’m not going to push for the answers, but someday you will.” His thumb swept over Drift’s cheek. “And someday I’ll have the name of whomever hurt you, so I might make them regret their hatching.”   
  
Drift’s eyes drifted shut. He drew a shuddery breath. “No one hurt me, it’s just…” He trailed off, words failing him.   
  
He didn’t want to admit what it had been like in Tesaurus, a smol too plain to be eye-catching, a smol too trained to be intriguing, a smol who should have been born a bara, but was instead born wrong in every way.   
  
“Some things are just hard to believe,” Drift finally finished.   
  
“I know, cupcake.” Perceptor tightened his grip on Drift’s hand. “We have time. We’ll figure it out.”   
  
“Cupcake?” Drift echoed, and a grin split the tension.   
  
“Oh, haven’t I shown you those yet?” Perceptor gifted him a quick peck on the lips before he drew back. “You’ll love them. We’ll go the bakery next.”   
  
Drift rolled his eyes playfully. “I meant, why did you call me that?”   
  
“Because it’s what you are. Cute and sweet and the perfect size for me to eat.” Perceptor chuckled. He pulled Drift further down the game trail, keeping Drift tucked against his side. “It’s a pet name, Buttercup. Get used to it. I’m fond of them.”   
  
Drift’s feather tufts switched. He tried not to blush and failed.   
  
“I think I like them, too,” Drift said, and hesitated before adding, “...Cherry pie?”   
  
By Adaptus, that sounded ridiculous. They didn’t flow from his lips naturally the way they did from Perceptor’s.   
  
“Mmm. We’ll work on those.”   
  
Drift laughed. Perceptor, at least, sounded amused. It swept away the last of the tension attacking Drift, and he found it easier to focus on his surroundings.   
  
The trees were getting thicker now and further apart because of their size. They would have made a wonderful home for a small aerie of interconnected nests, if harpies enjoyed living in trees. Which Drift knew some of them did. He’d seen at least two such aeries in his journeys across Cybertron.   
  
The air took on a distinct chill, without the heat of the sun to warm it. It was dimmer as well, though Drift’s eyes adjusted quickly enough. Perceptor walked faster, as though eager to show Drift the reason they were here.  
  
“Not much longer now,” Perceptor reassured him.   
  
He was right.   
  
Less than ten minutes later, with the trees so large that their crowns were no longer visible to the naked eye, Drift came to a stunned halt.   
  
The tree in front of him was massive. So much so that he wasn’t sure it qualified as a tree. From where he stood, he couldn’t measure the breadth of the trunk. He tilted, leaning back to see the crown, and couldn’t. Not only because of the branches, but because he suspected it was so far above him, he’d have to actually retreat to stand a chance of seeing it.   
  
The bark was thick and gnarled, like an aged harpy with crooked fingers and a hunched spine. Roots rose and fell from the soil floor, emerging in coils and humps, one large enough Drift could have walked under it.   
  
“It’s a  _Giganticus Eternis_.” Perceptor stood beside Drift, head tilted back to look up and up the length of the trunk. “Many of the trees we passed are actually descendents of this very tree. It’s lived for thousands of years. It will probably live to see the end of the world.” He waded through the brush and pressed a palm to the thick bark. “It’s the oldest of souls.”   
  
“It’s still  _alive_?” Drift breathed.   
  
Perceptor grinned. “Yes.” He moved over and swept aside a thick stand of bamboo to reveal a section of the trunk that simply wasn’t there, like a tunnel. “And it’s hollow.”   
  
Drift boggled. “How?”   
  
“A quirk of evolution. The trunk is quite sturdy. The walls of it are several feet thick. Bark has even grown along the interior, where it’s been hollowed away. It tapers off to solid trunk again, hundreds of feet above our heads.” Perceptor tilted his head toward the dark opening. “Would you like to see?”   
  
Drift did not even hesitate. “Of course!”   
  
“I thought you might.” Perceptor smiled and dug into the small pack he’d brought slung around his waist. He produced a long cylinder and handed it to Drift before withdrawing one of his own. “Here. A flashlight. It’s quite dark inside.”   
  
Flashlight?   
  
Drift frowned.   
  
Perceptor flicked his thumb against the ridge on the side of the cylinder. A strong beam of light sprung out from the end, forming a spherical halo a fair distance away.   
  
The humans were so inventive!  
  
Drift found his own toggle and switched it on.   
  
“And here we go.” Perceptor held back the bamboo again.   
  
Drift plunged into the dim, sweeping the light of the cylinder in front to illuminate his path.   
  
The interior was dark and vast. His flashlight seemed so meager in comparison, though small shafts of sunlight poured in from overhead. The floor crunched beneath Drift’s feet. He pointed the flashlight at it and found a carpet of dead leaves, insects, and branches. Mushrooms probably lurked in here, too. It felt damp.   
  
“It seems even bigger on the inside,” Drift commented as he swung the flashlight around and around, searching for a wall.   
  
His voice echoed. Something skittered above. Something else fluttered in the dark, soaring through one of the beams of weak sunlight.   
  
“It’s hard to believe it’s still alive,” Drift added.   
  
“The sapwood which forms the exterior trunk, is still functional. It carries nutrients from the roots to the branches,” Perceptor explained as he moved forward, and Drift followed him. “It is the heartwood which has rotted away, and it was already dead to begin with.”   
  
Drift aimed his light toward the ceiling. It was not powerful enough to breach the black. He couldn’t tell where the darkness ended.   
  
“This is amazing,” he breathed.   
  
“I agree. It would make a wonderful aerie someday. I have always thought that,” Perceptor said with a thoughtful hum.   
  
Drift pointed his flashlight toward the other harpy. Perceptor turned to look at him, his expression odd in the beam of light. “You think so?”   
  
Perceptor nodded. “I do.” He reached for Drift’s free hand and drew it up to his lips. He brushed a kiss over Drift’s knuckles. “There are natural snags all throughout the inside. It could easily house a few hundred harpies.”   
  
“It could. With a lot of work.” Drift nibbled on his bottom lip, his fingers warm in Perceptor’s grasp. “Too much work for two.”   
  
“Indeed. We’d need more.” Perceptor’s thumb rubbed over Drift’s palm, the light touch sending a bolt of heat down Drift’s spine. “But imagine it, Drift. Kaon has never been home to harpies before. But the humans welcome us here! Kaon could be a haven to others. Harpies like you and me, who can’t or won’t return to our home flocks, but need a place to call home.”   
  
Drift wouldn’t have to return to Tesaurus or Iacon. He wouldn’t have to worry about relying on the continued kindness of the humans. He could have a home, a real one, with Perceptor.   
  
Drift swallowed thickly. “It sounds perfect.”   
  
“It does.” Perceptor swept Drift into an embrace, his core throbbing so fast and excited Drift could feel it through Perceptor’s chest. “I don’t know how we can invite others. I don’t even know where to begin. It seemed like a distant dream until you showed up.”   
  
Drift thought of Gasket. His dear friend would love the freedom they could offer in Kaon.   
  
He thought of the other harpies he’d met in Helex, those chained to the gladiating pits because they had no other way to survive in an aerie owned by the elite. He remembered Argus, in Iacon, a bara who’d often stared at carrying smols wistfully, his hand on his own belly. Or Runabout and Runamuck, two baras in Uraya, who’d only had eyes for each other, but it was against flock law.   
  
“We’ll figure it out,” Drift said, because Perceptor was right.   
  
A haven was needed. A place for harpies without another home to go and be welcome. Those who were different, and treated badly because of it. Those who had dreams they couldn’t fulfill, or were tired of toiling under a tyrant. They could welcome the curious and the hopeful, anyone willing to work hard for a better life.   
  
The mere idea put a fire in Drift’s belly. He wanted to start immediately, a sense of urgency and need setting his core to throbbing faster. He wanted to do this. He wanted to help. It felt like a calling.   
  
“Maybe Ms. Jessica has some ideas where we can start,” Drift added.   
  
Perceptor swept him up into a kiss, his mouth hungry and sweet. Drift melted against Perceptor, clutching to his feathers with eager hands. Perceptor made a happy warble in his throat and dotted Drift’s face with kisses.   
  
“Thank you,” he murmured against the curve of Drift’s jaw, the hollow of his neck and shoulder.   
  
Drift shivered. “For what?”   
  
Perceptor cupped Drift’s face, bringing their foreheads together. “For not calling me a fool. For believing in this nonsensical idea of mine.”   
  
“It’s not ridiculous. It makes sense. It’s needed.” Drift smiled, placing his hands over Perceptor’s. He rubbed the tips of their noses together. “I want to help you.”   
  
Perceptor kissed him again, relief and joy in the firm press of his lips, the claiming sweep of his tongue, and Drift surrendered to it. Here in the dim, the crackle of leaves beneath their feet, the barest streams of sunlight, the earthy, green scent of Kaon wrapped around them.   
  
They would build a home here in Kaon.   
  
For them, and for anyone else on Cybertron who needed it.   
  


****


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that this fic is rated M for a reason. ;)

Fall faded into winter, though Kaon barely had one. It was only a month of true frigid air in the heart of the season with frequent snowfalls blanketing the land in white. If he and Drift went for a flight, it was rarely. They much preferred to stay indoors. There was always plenty to do, alone and together.   
  
Though Perceptor would admit he preferred the latter.   
  
Perceptor was used to being indoors, considering his labwork. He didn’t feel trapped. Drift was a little more antsy and had taken to pacing the corridors when he felt the need to move.   
  
But Drift loved cuddling or snuggling, and Perceptor enjoyed it as well. Sleeping in together became a must. Waking Drift with nuzzles and teasing kisses was less of a rare treat and more of an everyday delight.   
  
Perceptor no longer needed the weight of a sheepskin blanket to soothe his rest, he had the warmth of another harpy body next to his. Drift smelled so sweet, was soft and giving, and he surrendered to pleasure as though no one had ever given him any.   
  
Perceptor had never enjoyed dedicating his attention to another so much. Every little thing seemed to make Drift twitch and sigh. He squirmed when Perceptor kissed him, licked his throat, swept his palms over Drift’s body. He was sweet and tangy when Perceptor applied his mouth.   
  
He’d never taken so much joy in delaying the inevitable. He would fully rut with Drift eventually, but there was no hurry. This slow and steady exploration was pleasure itself.   
  
Perceptor had never known that simply being in someone’s presence was enough to make him feel content. He hadn’t realized how much he could enjoy sharing his space with another. Not until he met Drift.   
  
And Drift was so enthusiastic! He was eager to learn, eager to listen. And while he had little scientific aptitude to seek it out on his own, he loved to read, listen to lectures, and had even sat through Perceptor’s many, many theories and hypotheses without so much as a yawn. Perhaps he didn’t understand them, but he listened intently and asked questions sometimes, to prove he’d been paying attention.   
  
They spent hours making plans, consulting Dr. Jessica as often as they could, figuring out means to reach out to nearby aeries, though subtly. It was impolite to poach, so to speak, from other flocks. But if they left on their own, it was quite acceptable. Drift and Perceptor didn’t intend to directly recruit, but put the word out that there was acceptance in Kaon, if anyone sought it.   
  
Dr. Jessica had a few contacts in other aeries – like Perceptor had been a decade ago – and she agreed to pass on the messages. She’d also spoken with the local governing body on their behalf, who agreed that their eventual residency of the protected forest fell within acceptable use policies. More legal measures would have to be taken later, but with a flock of only two, it could be set aside for now.   
  
Perceptor drew up plans, with Drift’s input, of what modifications could be made to the great tree. He designed rooms and walkways, an open ceiling, a lattice of canopy to protect them. He added balconies and gathering areas, and he made a mental note to show Drift the nearby hot springs. They, too, could be incorporated into the aerie, whenever it came to be.   
  
Excitement grew within Perceptor, like a tiny seed which had finally found the proper soil and bathed in the best sunlight. He hadn’t realized how much he longed for home until Drift’s arrival, and now that there was the slimmest chance to have a flock of their own, he desperately wanted it.   
  
Drift had quite the artistic talent as well. He helped Perceptor modify the plans, adding an artistic flair to areas Perceptor’s good sense had only thought of function.   
  
“A home should be comfortable as well as functional,” Drift had teased as he bumped Perceptor with a shoulder. “We want to invite others, not make it seem like they’ve only found another prison.”   
  
Perceptor had rolled his optics at the tease, but obediently added the decorative trellises to his blueprint. They suited each other well, he and Drift, and with every passing day, that truth became more apparent.   
  
A tiny flicker of hope started to grow. He believed, with all his core, that others would come. His life of loneliness would vanish, eased first by the spark of his core, and then by others. They’d have an aerie, a flock, a  _family_.   
  
One week before the winter solstice, Perceptor took Drift up into the conservatory. They carried an armful of blankets and a woven basket full of drinks and snacks. Tonight would be a very special, if rare, treat.   
  
They built a warm pallet out of the blankets and curled together on the floor, staring up through the windowed dome at a night sky blessedly clear of clouds with nothing to hamper their view. Perceptor lit about a dozen tealight candles to chase away the shadows of the darkened conservatory without the brightness of the overhead lights.   
  
“What are we here for again?” Drift leaned back against Perceptor’s chest, his head tucked under Perceptor’s chin. He noisily munched on a bowl of trail mix, occasionally offering a few candied walnuts to Perceptor’s lips.   
  
Drift guarded the candied nuts ferociously. They were his favorite.   
Perceptor chuckled and rubbed his cheek over Drift’s crest. “The Vector Crossing. It’s a meteor shower, and we’re lucky the planet’s rotation allows us a prime view this year.”   
  
“Right.” Drift crunched on a handful of peanuts. Getting him to share would be the real challenge. “Why’s it called the Vector Crossing?”   
  
“It’s based on an old fairytale. Perhaps you’ve heard of it, the one concerning Emperor Vector?” He rubbed a hand along Drift’s side, talons carding through the thinner feathers.   
  
Drift squirmed, his rump cradled against Perceptor’s groin, tail twitching. “Wasn’t he a human?”   
  
“Indeed he was.” Perceptor leaned into the hill of blankets that served as a back rest. His other hand rested on Drift’s belly, softly stroking his featherdown, a slow heat stirring within him. He focused on the story as a distraction.   
  
“Vector ruled over the southern hemisphere, over much of what we know today as Praxus and the surrounding city-states. He was a brilliant physicist, not unlike myself, and he was fascinated with magic.”   
  
Drift scoffed. “Magic doesn’t exist.” He offered a walnut to Perceptor’s lips. How generous of him to share.   
  
“I believe it does.” Perceptor accepted the offer with a little lick to Drift’s fingertip. “It simply doesn’t exist in a state that can be recognized or measured.”   
  
Drift chuckled.   
  
“What?” Perceptor asked with a stroke to Drift’s belly.   
  
“Nothing.” Drift set the bag of trail mix aside – empty, the little glutton – and grabbed the two wine glasses Perceptor had brought instead. “It’s just cute, someone all scientific like you believing in something as insubstantial as magic.”   
  
Perceptor pinched his belly.   
  
Drift squirmed and laughed. “You’re going to make me spill!” he said as he uncorked the bottle. It splashed into the wine glasses without losing a drop, contrary to his warning.   
  
“Do you want to hear the rest of the story or not?” Perceptor asked, lips curving into a smile.  
  
“I do.” Drift sipped at his wine and offered the other glass to Perceptor. “What’s Vector have to do with the meteors?”   
  
Perceptor tasted the wine, found it red and sweet, a perfect choice. Though, of course, not as sweet as his companion.   
  
“Vector spent years searching for the source of magic, for proof it existed. He traveled far and wide, climbed mountains, dove into oceans, dug deep into the earth, and followed the most obscure of clues.” He paused for dramatic effect, the hand on Drift’s belly wandering a bit further down his abdomen. “What he found, we’ll never know. One day, he disappeared while on an excavation in the core of Tetrahex. Some say, he vanished in a pillar of fire.”   
  
Drift made a noncommittal noise and shifted Perceptor’s hand a bit lower, so that it lingered just above the heat of his antrum. “And?”   
  
“And the meteor showers showed up the very next year, on the anniversary of Vector’s disappearance,” Perceptor continued. He nuzzled the back of Drift’s head. “Be careful what you wish for, the stories cautioned, else you’ll become your obsession.”   
  
Drift snorted. “So people think Vector became the meteor showers and the meteor showers are magic?”   
  
“It is, after all, a fairy tale.” Perceptor drained his glass and set it aside. He cupped Drift’s face with his free hand, tilting it up to meet his. He brushed their noses together. “They don’t have to make sense.”   
  
“Be better if it did,” Drift murmured.  
  
Perceptor chuckled and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose before he tilted Drift’s chin up. “Look,” he said, lifting his own gaze. “It’s started.”   
  
Drift settled back against his chest, obediently tipping his head back as the first meteors streaked overhead. There and back again, quick as a flash.   
  
“Wow,” Drift breathed. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Tesaurus was almost always cloudy, you know.”   
  
“It is in a rain shadow, so I am not surprised,” Perceptor murmured. He tilted his head against Drift’s, soaking in the weight of his partner, the warmth of him, the tangy sweet scent which always seemed to easily intoxicate Perceptor.   
  
He wrapped both arms around Drift, one still stroking inches from Drift’s antrum, the other petting the nearest white thigh. Drift was warm against him, getting hotter, and the scent of his arousal filled Perceptor’s nose. Candles flickered as the heating system kicked on, filling the chilly air with a lukewarm breeze and the scent of paraffin and imitation vanilla.   
  
They weren’t anywhere close to as intoxicating as Drift however.   
  
Perceptor nuzzled the back of Drift’s head. He glanced up at the show, every now and again, but his hands were far more interested in Drift’s body. The scent of slick was stronger, and Drift’s thighs had started to part, pushing against the sides of Perceptor’s legs. He rolled his hips, nudging Perceptor’s fingers close, until they barely brushed over the swollen nub of his clit.   
  
Drift made a low noise in his throat, close to a whimper. His hands clutched at Perceptor’s thighs, bracing himself to grind into the cradle of Perceptor’s body. He arched his back, craning his neck.   
  
Drift’s mouth turned hot against the side of Perceptor’s throat. His glossa followed, wet and agile. Perceptor shivered, tightening his embrace, shifting beneath Drift. He was trying very hard to focus on the shower, but he swore Drift’s scent made him dizzy.   
  
“You’re supposed to be watching the meteors,” Perceptor reminded him with a little pinch to Drift’s thigh. He inhaled, dragging in the delicious scent of Drift’s arousal.   
  
Drift chuckled deep in his throat, thick with heat. “How can I when you’ve spent the better part of the evening teasing me?”   
  
“I have not,” Perceptor retorted.   
  
Drift’s hips rose, pushing into Perceptor’s touch. “Oh? What else do you call your fingers inches from where they can do some real good?”  
  
He grabbed Perceptor’s hand around the wrist and pushed it down, until he cupped the entirety of Drift’s featherdown. His nub throbbed hotly against the heel of Perceptor’s hand.   
  
Drift purred and rocked up against Perceptor’s hand, the damp of his folds slicking Perceptor’s palm.   
  
“That’s better,” he said.   
  
“Hedonist,” Perceptor whispered. He captured an ear with his teeth, applying a light pressure.   
  
Drift shivered. He pressed back against Perceptor’s chest, hands sliding up Perceptor’s thighs, talons pricking at his skin. “You started it,” he panted.   
  
Perceptor nuzzled him. “Yes, I did.” He rubbed the pad of his fingers over Drift’s antrum, wetting them in the slick. Drift’s nub pulsed beneath his palm, and he gave it a firm rub.   
  
Drift moaned, thighs spreading wider. “More,” he breathed.   
  
Perceptor swallowed thickly, his core thumping faster. He circled the heel of his palm, and let the pads of his fingers caress Drift’s antrum, dipping carefully into the wet center. Slick immediately spilled sticky-sweet over his fingers, and Drift rippled around him.   
  
“Oh, Percy, please,” Drift pleaded, talons clamping on Perceptor’s thighs, digging in hard enough to make Perceptor wince. He panted, and the hot nudge of his thickening clava pressed to the underside of Perceptor’s arm.   
  
Perceptor groaned and mouthed the side of Drift’s neck. He felt each moan vibrate against his lips. He tasted the quick beat of Drift’s core. He drowned in the scent of his lover’s need.   
  
He curled his free hand around Drift’s nearest leg, pulling it up and over, until it was draped over Perceptor’s own leg, opening him up further. Drift keened and pushed up against his hand, both of them now. Perceptor rubbed one palm over Drift’s clava and the other circled his throbbing nub.   
  
Candles flickered in the edge of his vision, but the rest of his focus was for the hot, squirming mess in his lap. Drift panted audibly, faster and faster. He squirmed, writhing in Perceptor’s lap, tarsals digging into the blankets, his hips pumping up against Perceptor’s hands.   
  
Arousal stabbed hot and hard through Perceptor’s veins. He groaned, his clava emerging in short order, the hot tip grinding against Drift’s rump, sensation magnified by the glossy slide of his feathers. His length pulsed, pre-fluid no doubt sticky against Drift’s rump, the urge to grab Drift’s thighs and rut against him almost overwhelming.   
  
He refrained. He had other ideas.   
  
Perceptor buried his face against Drift’s throat, inhaled his scent, his teeth and tongue nipping at Drift’s neck.   
  
“Let go,” he murmured as Drift soaked Perceptor’s fingers, and his clava grew rigid in Perceptor’s hold, slick beading at the tip. “Come for me, sweet pea.”   
  
And Drift did.   
  
Head tossing back, spine arching, feathers fluttering in a wave. His hands dug into Perceptor’s thighs, sharp enough to draw blood, hips pumping into Perceptor’s hands. His clava throbbed, but didn’t spill, and the flutter of his antrum against Perceptor’s fingers was the testament to his release.   
  
By Adaptus he was beautiful.   
  
Drift sagged in his arms, panting. Perceptor gently grabbed his chin with lubricant damp fingers and tilted Drift’s mouth toward his, stealing his lips for a kiss. Drift ate at his mouth, teeth scraping Perceptor’s lips, his breathing hot and humid.   
  
“We’re alone, right?” he said against Perceptor’s mouth, his voice raspy, his antrum still pulsing wet and hot against Perceptor’s palm.   
  
Perceptor hummed in his throat. He stroked down the side of Drift’s throat. “Yes, of course.”   
  
“And you locked the door?”   
  
“Yes,” Perceptor replied with a gentle caress to Drift’s dripping center.   
  
“Good,” Drift purred and abruptly surged in Perceptor’s arms, disentangling himself as he rolled over and straddled Perceptor’s hips.   
  
His eyes were bright, his lips wet from their kissing. His clava bobbed proudly at the apex of his thighs, and he hovered over Perceptor’s clava, the heat of him achingly close.   
  
“I want you inside me,” Drift said as he rocked his hips, gliding his wetness over Perceptor’s length, teasing him. “Now.”   
  
Perceptor shivered, his palms gentle as they slid from Drift’s thighs to his knees and back again. “Is that so?” He kept his tone light, despite the need throbbing through his veins.   
  
Drift nibbled on his bottom lip. He leaned forward, hands braced on either side of Perceptor’s hips, Perceptor’s clava framed by the vee of his thighs.   
  
“Not that I’m not enjoying our slow and steady pace,” Drift said with a little breathy sound. “But I think we can take it to the next level, don’t you?”   
  
Perceptor cupped Drift’s hips and rolled upward, the head of his clava briefly tasting Drift’s slick. “I am your servant.” Anticipation coiling like a hot coal inside his belly.   
  
“You always know the perfect thing to say.” Heat flashed bright and hungry in Drift’s eyes.   
  
Drift shifted his weight and guided Perceptor to the core of him. He rocked down, taking the head of Perceptor’s clava inside of him. Perceptor’s eyelids fluttered, wet heat enveloping the sensitive crown, before Drift sank a bit further, swallowing half of his length in one roll of his hips.   
  
Drift’s hands buried in the blankets to either side of Perceptor. He groaned low in his throat, head hanging. He licked his lips, and it took all Perceptor had not to pull Drift the rest of the way. He trembled from need, but held back.   
  
This would go at Drift’s pace or not at all. Drift was no untouched, this was neither of their first time, but there was no rush either.   
  
None at all.   
  
They had time aplenty to savor, and Perceptor wanted to memorize everything. The slow dance of Drift’s hips, the inch by inch sink, the way Drift’s face glazed over with pleasure, the flash and burn of the meteors lighting the sky behind him, the flicker of candlelight over Drift’s feathers, painting him in shadows and light.   
  
He was beautiful.   
  
Perceptor stroked him, up his sides, down his hips, over and around his rump. He trembled, clava throbbing, and moaned as Drift swallowed him another precious inch. His head tipped back, sucking his lips through his teeth, pleasure surging through his veins like a flash fire.   
  
“Drift,” he moaned. “ _Please_.”   
  
As if waiting for him to beg, Drift’s entire body gave a shudder. His legs secured around Perceptor’s hips, and he sank down fully, their groins notched together.  
  
White light danced behind Perceptor’s eyes. He clutched to Drift’s hips, clava throbbing, hips rocking upward in tiny bursts as the hot clamps of Drift’s antrum rippled around him. Drift ground down, little circles of his hips, stirring Perceptor inside of him. He gasped through his mouth, body drawn taut with visible pleasure.   
  
Drift tilted forward, his mouth crashing over Perceptor’s. His palms smacked to either side of Perceptor’s shoulders and knocked over the wine glasses. They chimed as they struck the metal floor, but did not break.   
  
He exhaled hot over Perceptor’s lips, the change in position adjusting the angle of Perceptor within him. His hips stuttered, losing rhythm, before picking it up once more.   
  
“Adaptus, you feel so good,” he breathed against Perceptor’s mouth, hips rutting forward, his clava grinding against Perceptor’s abdomen.   
  
“As do you,” Perceptor murmured. One hand cradled Drift’s rump. The other swept up and down Drift’s back. He drew his legs up, bracing his feet against the blanket, so he could thrust up into Drift.   
  
His lover cried out, burying his face in Perceptor’s throat. They rocked together, bodies pressed close, heat building between them. Drift rippled around him, and several intoxicating noises peeled from his throat. His teeth and tongue were hot pinpricks on Perceptor’s neck. He murmured a nonsense string of sounds, his breathy pants hot puffs over Perceptor’s ear.   
  
All thoughts of restraint vanished.   
  
Perceptor’s head tossed back, hand gripping Drift’s rump, grinding their bodies together. He pushed deep into Drift, swallowed by heat, and felt pleasure steal away all trace of coherent thought. It barreled him over, stole his breath, or maybe that was Drift’s mouth, pressed to his, teeth and tongue claiming. He spilled deep inside Drift, the ecstasy seemingly without end, his entire body trembling.   
  
Drift’s mouth on his was hungry. He made a noise of protest, his hips grinding down, as the last tremors of ecstasy left Perceptor.   
  
He hadn’t lasted nearly long enough. But no matter. There was always room for improvement. For now…   
  
Perceptor wrapped his arms around Drift and rolled them over, nearly rolling them both right off the pallet of blankets. Drift made a startled squeak as he splayed across the blankets, his eyes bright with want, his lips swollen and wet. His clava bobbed, rigid and wet with want.   
  
Perceptor’s mouth watered. He dragged his hands to Drift’s hips, slotted himself firmly between Drift’s thighs, and dragged Drift up to his mouth. He licked a long, wet line up Drift’s center, tasting himself among Drift’s slick, his teeth and tongue finding Drift’s rigid nub and giving it a long suckle.   
  
Drift keened, his feet drumming against Perceptor’s back, his spine arching. He fisted the blankets, panting a desperate plea. “P--Perceptor...”   
  
The stutter broke off into another keen as Perceptor slipped the tip of Drift’s clava into his mouth and gave a light suck. Feathers twitched. Drift’s hips danced in his grip, and Perceptor took him deeper, Drift’s pre-come trickling sweet and thick over his tongue. Drift throbbed in his mouth, the smell of his arousal a heady thing.   
  
Perceptor hummed and flexed his fingers on Drift’s rump. He looked up the length of his partner’s body, taking in Drift’s closed eyes, his parted lips, the arousal staining his face a brilliant pink. And then he swallowed Drift to the root, his nose buried against the soft down at Drift’s groin, his chin nudging Drift’s nub.   
  
Drift tensed in Perceptor’s hold before his head tipped back and he came with a wail, spilling hot and sweet down Perceptor’s throat. He gritted his teeth, ripped the blankets with his talons, his heels kicking in against Perceptor’s back. His entire body shook as Perceptor eased off of Drift’s clava, taking his time to savor it, extend his partner’s pleasure.   
  
Drift breathed raggedly, making low sounds in his throat. His eyes fluttered open and he pulled his hands free of the blankets as he slipped from Perceptor’s mouth. He reached for Perceptor, and Perceptor reached back, carefully lowering Drift’s hips so he could crawl up the length of his body.   
  
He nestled his hips between Drift’s thighs, his lips finding Drift’s for a soft and sweet kiss. Drift’s tongue slipped into his mouth, as though eager to taste himself on Perceptor, his hands sweeping up and down Perceptor’s back. His chest heaved with quick breaths, his body expending heat like he had an inner furnace.   
  
Perceptor’s arms shook. He gave in to their weakness and ended the kiss, but only so he could pillow his head on Drift’s chest, listen to the rapid, but returning to normal, throb of Drift’s core.   
  
Comfortable silence slipped into the warm spaces between them, filled only with their breathing. Perceptor’s eyes half-lidded, his ears attuned to Drift’s core beat.   
  
“Do you know what they say about meteors?” Drift asked, his voice vibrating through his chest, sounding much deeper as a result.   
  
Perceptor opened his eyes, watching the flicker of the candlelight create shadows against the wall. “What about them?”   
  
Drift tightened his arms around Perceptor. “In some places, they are called shooting stars. And rumor has it, if you make a wish on one, Adaptus will grant it.”   
  
“Is that so?” Perceptor lifted his head and shifted his weight to his elbows so he could meet Drift’s eyes. “Do you have a wish, Drift?”   
  
A small, soft smile curled Drift’s lips. “I used to. But I don’t anymore.”   
  
“Why is that?”   
  
Drift dug his elbows beneath him, propping his torso up so their faces were mere inches apart. “Because it already came true,” he murmured, and brushed his lips over Perceptor’s. “I found you, didn’t I?”   
  
Perceptor’s core throbbed a sharp shot of affection. “I believe we found each other.” He brushed their noses together before he snagged Drift’s lips for another kiss, this one sweeter and deeper.   
  
He shifted his weight to one elbow and reached down with the other hand, curling his fingers around the nearest thigh. He lifted Drift’s leg over his hip, opening Drift up so that Perceptor could roll their hips together, his stirring clava brushing over the damp between Drift’s thighs.   
  
Drift moaned against his lips and clutched at Perceptor’s shoulders, falling back into the embrace of the blankets as he did so. Perceptor followed after him, bathing his face in sweet kisses, nosing into the delicate area of Drift’s throat. He felt the quickened beat of Drift’s core against his lips, even as he rocked forward, his clava gliding through Drift’s slick.   
  
“May I?” Perceptor asked.   
  
“Please,” Drift breathed and his heel thrummed against Perceptor’s rump, urging him forward. He carded his hands through Perceptor’s feathers, a low purr rising in his chest, vibrating against Perceptor’s lips.   
  
Affection soared through Perceptor’s core. He angled himself to sink into Drift once more, losing himself in the feel of Drift beneath him, the sweet sounds of pleasure, and the echoes of the meteor shower flickering over the walls around them.   
  
A wish come true indeed, Perceptor thought fondly. And then he didn’t think much more.   
  


***


	6. Chapter 6

Winter melted into spring, quicker than any melt Drift had ever experienced. There was only a month of snow and ice and then came the fresh breath of spring. All too soon, Drift’s winter coat became stifling, and it was a relief when he finally started to molt, even if it did make for a mess.   
  
Double the mess, truth be told, because as winter petered away, Perceptor and Drift chose to share Perceptor’s room, and turn Drift’s into a private lab for Perceptor, complete with greenhouse ambiance. It worked out better for the both of them, though some of Drift’s collection had started to migrate into their shared room.   
  
Perceptor was gracious enough not to complain about it.   
  
They left the windows open both for the fresh air, and because their room was thick with molt fluff. Some of it they gathered for Ms. Jessica, who was thrilled to have another harpy’s molt to study. And apparently, pillows stuffed with their feathers sold for a premium? Drift didn’t know why humans were so weird, but given the rise in their shared bank account, he didn’t mind.   
  
Some of their molt they kept for themselves, for stuffing their own pillows, discarding what Perceptor had gathered last year.   
  
Mid-afternoon and they both refused to leave their room. They were a patchy mess of new feathers and old feathers, thick tufts of winter growth mingling with shiny new growth. Drift hadn’t known Perceptor capable of such grumbling until he caught his partner digging persistently at an ingrown feather, one just out of reach behind his left shoulderblade.   
  
“You could have asked me for help, you know,” Drift said as he plucked out the offensive leaving and flicked it into the basket for Ms. Jessica.   
  
Perceptor sighed with relief. “Having spent the last ten years dealing with molt on my own, would you believe me if I told you I forgot there was someone here I could ask for help?” A small chuckle escaped them. “Though human hands are quite adept at helping as well.”   
  
“You actually let a human groom you?” Drift asked, eyes wide with surprise. Perhaps Ms. Jessica he’d trust. But that was the limit of his reach. Not even Artemis, who had proven very nice, would Drift trust with that much vulnerability.   
  
Perceptor swept some belongings off a long, low bench and moved them to the hammock they shared. He dragged the bench to the center of the room and straddled it. He patted the empty space in front of him.   
  
“Beggars can’t be choosers,” he said. “Come. Sit. I’ll groom your back.”   
  
Drift couldn’t sit fast enough. His back itched something fierce, and he wanted his molt to be over already. He was bland in appearance already without the mid-molt look to make it worse.   
  
He sat in front of Perceptor and reached back, pulling his partner’s right leg up and draping it over his own. He started plucking at the old feathers in Perceptor’s calves, amused as Perceptor’s taloned toes wriggled.   
  
“Well, you don’t need the humans anymore,” Drift said as he worked free a stubborn leaving and flicked it toward the basket. “So I better not catch any human hands buried in your feathers.”   
  
Perceptor’s talons carded through his back, and Drift shivered, a low sound of pleasure echoing in his throat. “Oh. Possessive, are we? I think I quite like that tone.”   
  
Drift rolled his eyes. “I prefer to think of it as protective.”   
  
“Mm. Semantics.” Perceptor chuckled and dug a talon at Drift’s scapulae, prising free a leaving that had been bothering Drift all morning.   
  
He sighed with relief.   
  
A warm breeze flooded through the window, carrying the scent of flowers in bloom, and the noise of the lawn mower slicing through the grass’ first growth of the season. Windchimes sang in the wind – Perceptor had several of them now, dancing and swaying where they hung.   
  
It warmed Drift’s core every time he saw them, to know such simple things were treasured by his partner. It was proof, without words, that Perceptor treasured him as well.   
  
He ran his fingers over Perceptor’s right leg and found it free and clear. So he set it back upon the ground and pulled Perceptor’s left leg into his lap. There was quite the tangle of mottled feathers here.   
  
“Drift?”   
  
“Hm?” He bent closer to Perceptor’s leg, glaring at the stubborn tangle.   
  
Skilled talons carded through the feathers of his back, searching for old growth. “You do realize that in a few more weeks it will be mating season.”   
  
Drift straightened. “Oh, you’re right.” He flicked more feathers toward the basket, though a few caught on the breeze and missed. “Don’t tell me Ms. Jessica wants to watch. Because I think that’s where I’ll draw the line.”   
  
There was a moment of silence before Perceptor barked a laugh, his hands resting on Drift’s shoulders as he pressed his forehead between them.   
  
“By Adaptus, no,” he said through several chuckles. “And I find it even more amusing that it’s where your mind went first.”   
  
Drift wrinkled his nose. “She’s eager. It wouldn’t surprise me.”   
  
“Nor I.” Perceptor hummed another laugh and pushed himself back upright. “We’ve already had the discussion about examination of our reproductive genitalia. I think she’s hoping she can find the right bribe to convince me to say yes. All in the name of science, of course.”   
  
Drift snorted. “Right. But you don’t see us asking her to strip and show us human bits.” He rolled his shoulders with a shudder. “Not that I want to.”   
  
“From what I understand, there are many similarities.” Perceptor’s tone was rich with amusement. “I have a medical anatomy textbook if you want to read it.”   
  
“No, thanks.”   
  
“I thought you might say that.” Perceptor scooted a bit forward and rested his chin on Drift’s shoulder, his arms loosely wrapping around Drift’s waist. “However, I mentioned mating season because I wanted to be sure you wished to spend it with me.”   
  
Drift half-turned, startled. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asked as he caught Perceptor’s eyes. “We’re together, aren’t we?”   
  
“Well, yes. But I didn’t want to presume.” Perceptor nuzzled him, the warmth of him welcome, though not for too long.   
  
It was too hot, with their winter coat not fully molted, and the warm breeze flooding in from the window. Couple that with the bright sun gleaming through the glass, and Drift was about to ask that they turn on the air conditioning.   
  
Barely a year in Kaon and he’d already gotten far too used to human comforts.   
  
“I appreciate that.” Drift rested his hand on Perceptor’s leg. He gnawed on his bottom lip, knowing he needed to be honest. “And I do want to spend my heat with you. But...”   
  
He trailed off. He hadn’t realized he would have to put this into words. He’d never been with someone he’d wanted to be honest with. He worried this would be the one thing Perceptor could not abide. That it might spell the end of their relationship.   
  
“But?” Perceptor prompted. His hands rested on Drift’s abdomen. “You know you can be honest with me, Drift. Are you afraid? Have you had a bad experience?”   
  
Drift shook his head. “No, that’s not it.” He breathed in and out, closing his eyes to center himself. “It’s, you know, called mating season for a reason, is all. We go into heat purely for one purpose and I...” He trailed off again, hands tangling together, anxiety nestling into a quivering ball inside his belly.   
  
“Ah,” Perceptor murmured. “And you don’t wish to carry.”   
  
“Yeah.” Drift chewed hard on the inside of his cheek before he decided honesty truly was for the best. Even if it meant the end. “But I don’t mean only this time. I meant...” He paused and inhaled deeply. “What if I told you I don’t want to carry? Ever.”   
  
“I would tell you that you’re allowed to make that decision,” Perceptor replied, and his hands shifted to holding Drift’s hips. “Though if I may ask, is it because you don’t want to carry specifically, or because you don’t want to raise a child?”  
  
“Both,” Drift admitted and sagged further onto the bench, drawing inward. “It’s just… I don’t have it in me to be a parent. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. The idea of it terrifies me, but not in a good way.” He paused and shifted so he could look at Perceptor and see the truth in his eyes. “That’s probably a deal-breaker for you.”   
  
“On the contrary.” Perceptor drew back and plucked at Drift’s right arm, pulling free a twisted feather leaving. “What if I were to tell you that raising a child has always been unappealing to me?”   
  
Drift blinked, relief warring with suspicion in his core. “You’re just saying that.”   
  
Perceptor arched an eyebrow. “When have I ever stated something merely for the sake of it?” he asked, his tone calm and even, not at all angry as Drift would have suspected.   
  
He was right.   
  
Drift turned back around. “I’m not used to that,” he admitted. He directed his focus on Perceptor’s ankle, talons carding through the feathers to remove the dead fluff. “I’m not used to people saying what they mean. I still think you’re going to wake up and realize that it’s been fun, but I’m not mate material at all.”   
  
He flicked leavings to the floor. He’d sweep them up later. His core throbbed a worried beat in his chest. He replayed his own words, and startled.   
  
“But it’s not your fault,” Drift was quick to add. He didn’t want Perceptor to think Drift felt unwanted or unloved. That was far from the truth. “It’s mine. My own failing. You haven’t done anything wrong.”   
  
“Oh, buttercup. It’s okay. I understand.” Perceptor pressed warmth to Drift’s back again, a squeezing embrace of reassurance.   
  
The silly nickname made Drift’s core flutter. They always did. They were ridiculous and half the time didn’t make sense, but he loved when Perceptor used them anyway. They always sounded fond and affectionate, rather than masked mockery.   
  
“Scars of the core are never quickly healed,” Perceptor said, his breath a warm puff over the back of Drift’s ear. “But I assure you, Drift, hatchlings have never been in my plan. I’ve always been indifferent to the idea of them, and I’ve always believed that one should never commit to something so important unless you are ready to commit with your entire being.”   
  
Relief sank into Drift’s limbs. He settled back into Perceptor’s hold. “You’re right,” he said. Perceptor sounded so certain, so decided.   
  
Drift believed him.   
  
“Good.” Perceptor kissed the side of his neck. “And luckily for both of us, the greenhouse grows the herbs I need to make the appropriate medicine to ensure we have no accidental carries.”   
  
Drift’s lips pulled into a wolfish grin, a shiver dancing down his spine. “Mmm.” He turned, pressing a kiss to the curve of Perceptor’s jaw. “Lucky indeed.”   
  
Perceptor’s hands patted over his belly before shifting to his hips. “You sound like you have something pleasant in mind.” He laughed.   
  
Heat flushed into Drift’s cheeks. “Well, being with you is a guarantee of a good time is all.”   
  
“Flattery will get you everywhere, sunshine,” Perceptor nipped at his ear. He patted Drift’s hips. “Come now. My back itches, too. Let’s switch.”   
  
“You only want me for my talons,” Drift playfully sighed, but he swiveled around on the bench as Perceptor rose to turn around. He was now faced with Perceptor’s back, beautiful though it was, despite the snarls of winter molt. “So we’re in agreement. We’re not letting Ms. Jessica watch or film us.”   
  
“Absolutely not,” Perceptor said firmly as he pulled Drift’s right leg into his lap and tickled behind Drift’s knee. He twitched his leg, and Perceptor stopped. “You can answer her questions if you like, but don’t let her push your boundaries.”   
  
Because she would. Drift was very familiar with Ms. Jessica’s interviewing techniques.   
  
Drift chuckled and sifted through the feathers on Perceptor’s back, pulling free the loosest ones first. “Noted. Do you give her warning?”   
  
“Every year,” Perceptor said, and he went silent, his hand curling around Drift’s thigh. “You know, I am quite lucky this year to actually have a partner. I’m sure my pillows will be grateful.”   
  
It took a moment for Drift to realize the joke, and he barked a laugh. “I’m sure.” Though a mental image of Perceptor pleasuring himself at the peak of his heat made a ripple of want surge through Drift’s veins.   
  
He made a mental note to ask Perceptor for a demonstration.   
  
“Anyhow,” Perceptor continued as he worked on Drift’s right ankle, “Ms. Jessica will arrange for someone to look after your plants and my experiments. I’ll make sure we have enough food and refreshments to sustain us. Then we can spend however long it takes in here.”   
  
Drift nodded, though Perceptor couldn’t see it, and was glad Perceptor couldn’t also see the color stealing into his cheeks. “Sounds good to me. And after?”   
  
“After?” Perceptor sounded puzzled. His hand paused on Drift’s knee.   
  
“You know, after mating season. The Festival of Adaptus?” Drift flicked away the last of the easy leavings and started peering more carefully at Perceptor’s back. “Wasn’t it celebrated in Tyger Pax?”   
  
“Indeed it was.” Perceptor set Drift’s right leg back on the floor and lifted Drift’s left into his lap, tickling the back of his knee first and making Drift twitch. “We celebrated it as a week-long exhibition.”   
  
“Exhibition?”   
  
Perceptor hummed an affirmative. “Yes. We all present our research, our findings, our progress, our success, even our failures, because there is always something to be learned from failure.” He scratched at the underside of Drift’s thigh, pulling loose a thick tangle of old feathers. “And those who wished could announce their candidacy for Director, and present their hypothesis. We would then vote on the best candidate.”   
  
“Director? Is that like a leader?”   
  
“Indeed. Though it is not a position that is inherited, but earned. What about Tesaurus?”   
  
It was a lot easier to talk about flock customs in general than speak of his own experiences in Tesaurus. Drift didn’t like being reminded of all the troubles he’d left behind.   
  
“Oh, we had a Dai, but it was earned, too. Our leader had to be the most skilled of the aerie. We held tournaments every year, after the Festival of Adaptus, and anyone could challenge the Dai who wanted to. Not that many did.”   
  
Perceptor moved on to Drift’s ankle. “Why not?”   
  
“Because Dai Atlas was a legend!” Drift flicked feather leavings toward the gathering basket. “He challenged Dai Grandus before he even mated, and he won! It’s been four decades now, and he hasn’t been so much as scratched by the few who did dare challenge him.”   
  
“You sound like you admire him.”   
  
“I do.” Drift worked his jaw and calmed his tone. He didn’t want to come across as an overeager fan. “Dai Atlas is a good harpy. He’s a bara, but he’s never treated anyone as lesser. He believes a harpy should be judged on their merit and nothing else. Sometimes, to the irritation of the council of elders, who think tradition is more important than anything else.”   
  
Perceptor hummed. “Tradition is important,” he agreed. “But not at the expense of those it is meant to honor.”   
  
“Yeah, I agree.”   
  
“What about the festival itself? How did Tesaurus celebrate?”   
  
Drift rolled his shoulders. “Same as everyone else, I guess. Dancing. Food. It was the only time of the year we were excused from our studies and our non-emergency duties as a flock. So we could mingle with everyone, if we wanted. It was pretty common for people to meet their mates during the festival.”   
  
“You lived in Iacon for a while, too. Yes?”   
  
“Yeah. Iacon had a huge celebration. It was a week of parties. There were entertainers and music, the main streets were decorated, there was a parade.”   
  
Drift laughed at the memory. He hadn’t spent long in Iacon, but he had been there for at least one mating season and festival. It was probably the only time he remembered having fun in the rule-choked city.   
  
Come to think of it, the rules were likely the reason Carrier wanted him there in the first place. Carrier hoped the rules would keep Drift in line, help him find the right kind of happiness. Iacon would make Drift more appealing.   
  
He’d been wrong about that.   
  
Drift wondered what Carrier would think of Perceptor. Not a warrior, but a scientist, brilliant and talented and beautiful, but not a soldier. Would Carrier approve? Would Drift’s happiness even matter?   
  
Drift bit back a sigh and focused on the conversation instead. It was easier. “Iacon during the Festival of Adaptus was the most chaotic I’d ever seen for a city usually so rigid. It was like… for a few days, most of the rules didn’t apply.”   
  
“Sounds like it was fun.”   
  
“It was. For a moment, I forgot how much I hated the rest of it.” His voice turned solemn before he could catch himself, and he knew Perceptor would have caught it.   
  
That was confirmed when Perceptor’s hand landed on his thigh with a loving stroke. “So,” he said. “We have an exhibition, a party, and a parade. I don’t think we can do any of those during the festival, do you?”   
  
Drift laughed. “Not with just the two of us.” He paused and tilted his head as an idea occurred to him. “Though we could probably convince Ms. Jessica to arrange something. We don’t have enough time this year, but next year? Yeah. I think she’d be thrilled to have a harpy culture week here.”   
  
He could just see her now, eyes sparkling big and bright, her pen scratching fast across the paper as she took copious notes. The cap of the pen would be a gnawed mess. Her heeled feet would tap-tap-thunk on the floor. Her enthusiasm could be infectious.   
  
“Next year?” Perceptor echoed.   
  
Drift wrapped his arms around Perceptor’s waist and rested his head against the bara’s back. “Yeah. Next year.” He nuzzled into the back of Perceptor’s neck. “I’m sticking around, Perceptor. I’m not leaving. I want to be here next year. And the year after that. And--”  
  
Perceptor’s hands rested over his. “I have a suggestion then,” Perceptor murmured, cutting off his babbling. “Since we’ll have to save the parade for next year.”   
  
“I’m listening.”   
  
Perceptor leaned back into his embrace, the vibrations of his voice gentle against Drift’s chest. “I can show you the Glass Falls, we take a picnic, a portable hammock, spend the night up there. It should be warm enough, and the view is spectacular.”   
  
“Yes.” Drift rose and pressed a kiss to the side of Perceptor’s neck. “It sounds perfect.”   
  
“Then I’ll make the arrangements.” Perceptor turned his head, quickly capturing Drift’s lips for a brief kiss. “But first we have work to do,” he said against Drift’s mouth and deftly plucked a feather from Drift’s shoulder.   
  
Drift laughed as Perceptor twirled the molted leaving before flicking it toward the basket. “Yes, we do.” He sat back down and returned to grooming as Perceptor lifted Drift’s leg back into his lap.   
  
Next year.   
  
Drift liked the sound of that.   
  


***


	7. Chapter 7

Perceptor woke to the smell of toasted bread and the sweet, tartness of jam. The bed they’d upgraded to creaked beneath him, and his left side was chillier than it ought to be. Where was Drift?  
  
“Good morning, cupcake.” Lips brushed Perceptor’s forehead as his eyes fluttered open.   
  
Drift leaned over him, a smile on his lips, a brightness in his eyes. “Do you know what today is?”   
  
Perceptor rolled over to face him better. “Tuesday?” He fought off a yawn.   
  
He’d stayed up much too late scribbling down a hypothesis and trying to work out the math. By the time he’d joined Drift in bed, Drift was fast asleep, though he’d rolled into Perceptor for warmth, making a cute little noise as he did so.   
  
Drift laughed and sat on the edge of the bed, resting a tray in his lap. “Well, yeah. It is Tuesday. But that’s not what I meant.”   
  
Perceptor pulled himself upright. “It’s not a holiday that I recall.”   
  
He eyed the tray. A small vase with a bunch of white lilies rested in the center. A porcelain dish was carefully plated with toast and jam – Drift’s handmade blackberry jam no less. A glass of orange juice sat next to it. Perceptor would bet it was fresh-squeezed.   
  
He prodded at his sleep-fogged brain to recall what Drift might have meant. “The Strawberry Festival is today,” he said. “I remember you wanted to attend.”   
  
“Also yes.” Drift chuckled and set the tray on Perceptor’s lap, flipping out two legs on either side so it rested safely on the bed. “But still wrong.”   
  
Perceptor touched the lacy cloth lining the tray. “It must be something important,” he murmured before he caught Drift’s gaze. “Something important for you and I.” He paused, thinking hard, and when it came to him, it was like a burst of light. “Oh! It has been one year since you were found outside the gate.”   
  
Drift beamed. “And it only took you three tries.” He scooted over until he sat next to Perceptor, one talon scraping through the extra bowl of jam to bring it to his lips. “Though it’s hard to believe it’s been a full year.”   
  
“Such a short time and yet so much has happened,” Perceptor murmured. “And you brought me breakfast in bed. Thank you, Drift.” He pressed a kiss to his partner’s cheek. “You are so sweet.”   
  
“It’s nothing really. Just a little surprise because I wanted to.” Drift leaned his head on Perceptor’s shoulder. “I’m glad you found me.”   
  
“As am I.” Perceptor nibbled on the bread, the sweet and tart flavors of the blackberry spilling over his tongue.   
  
Affection rose in a hot wave throughout his body. He looked at Drift and felt such a throb of adoration he knew he could ignore it no longer. He knew the breadth of his emotions. He knew he had to share them.   
  
He set down the bread. He took Drift’s hand and tangled their fingers together.   
  
“I’d like to tell you something,” Perceptor said as he met Drift’s eyes with his own. “But I want you to understand that it is a gift freely given. You are under no obligation to return it. I simply want you to know.”   
  
Drift looked down at their linked fingers, and then he looked up at Perceptor, his eyes wide and startled. “Perceptor--”  
  
He cut Drift off with a finger to Drift’s lips. “Shh.” Perceptor cupped Drift’s face, and swept a thumb over his cheek. “I love you,” he said, because it was true, and he knew it with every beat of his core. Perhaps a part of him had loved Drift from the moment they met. It was why everything between them was always so easy.   
  
“I love who you are, who I am with you, and I cherish every moment we spend together,” Perceptor continued, a thickness growing in his throat, to match the shimmer in Drift’s eyes. “And I want you to know that, not because you are obligated to respond, but because you deserve to know how I feel.”   
  
Drift’s mouth opened and closed. His cheek heated under Perceptor’s palm. His fingers trembled, and his tongue swept over his lips. He looked like a rabbit caught in the eyes of a hawk, frozen with fear, knowing it should run, but uncertain of which direction it should go, for all ways seemed deadly and wrong.   
  
Perceptor kissed him, for what else could he do in the face of that fear? He pressed his lips to Drift, sharing the flavor of the blackberries Drift had lovingly prepared for him. He kept the kiss gentle, chaste, with only the barest sweep of his tongue, before he drew back.   
  
“I love you,” Perceptor repeated firmly, and then he withdrew, returning his attention to the tray in his lap. “And now I will enjoy this delicious breakfast you brought for me so that I have my energy for today. You do still want to attend the festival, yes?”   
  
“I do,” Drift replied, his voice crackling. He stood up from the bed, turning away from Perceptor in a hurry. “I, um, need something to drink. I’ll be right back.”   
  
He fled as Perceptor sipped at his orange juice – fresh squeezed as he suspected – and nibbled on the jam-laden bread. It was all quite good. Sweet, as only something made with love could be.   
  
He was not disappointed Drift didn’t immediately reply. On the contrary, Perceptor suspected that would be the case. He’d seen the hurt in Drift’s eyes one too many times, the pain which made him occasionally flinch away, the topics of his past he avoided as though they were plague-ridden. There were scars on Drift’s core, scars which made love and affection seem like an impossible dream. Perhaps he wasn’t ready to hear it yet. Perhaps he wasn’t ready to trust it yet.   
  
It had been a gift, and Perceptor never regretted giving those.   
  
So he ate his breakfast and waited for his lover to return. They would have a good day today, Perceptor decided. He was sure of it.   
  


~

  
  
The Strawberry Festival was one of Kaon’s biggest attractions. It drew in visitors from nearby citystates and was a great source of revenue for the university, the student associations, and programs which relied upon donations and earnings to continue. Not only was the strawberry theme central to Kaon’s history, but it also produced an opportunity for the student’s themselves to showcase their talents and all they’ve learned.   
  
Stands were set up as students hawked their wares, from art to food to homemade trinkets to raffles. The main quad was decorated with streamers and multicolored lanterns, and bright ropes helped guide visitors to each area. Live music filled the air, and the scent of food – strawberry above all else but other flavors also – floated along with it. The walkways were packed with people, and no few of them gawked at the harpy duo in their midst.   
  
Kaonites were used to seeing Perceptor and now Drift. But the visitors were not. Far too many cameras flashed for Perceptor’s comfort, but he bore it with dignity. If even one human could be convinced that Harpies were sapient and not monsters, he would endure. It was worth it. Besides, it was easier to endure, now that he had a partner beside him.   
  
A quiet partner, to be fair. Drift seemed to be lost in thought ever since he returned to their room without the drink he’d claimed to need. His behavior had been tentative, but he’d come with Perceptor to the Festival eagerly enough. His enthusiasm returned in short spurts as he laid eyes on the Festival, and his feet tapped to the music as though he wanted to dance.   
  
Sampling the available foods was a must. Everything had a strawberry theme of course, but the variety of ways to include the strawberry in assorted recipes was amazing.   
  
Strawberry salads and vinaigrettes. Pies and cookies and pastries. Wines and juices. Chocolate-covered, caramel-covered. Frozen and iced. Dried and freezer-dried. It was used as a glaze, a jam, a filling, everything one could possibly think of.   
  
Then came a booth featuring several different cultivars of strawberries, along with some attempts at cross-breeding with other species. Some of the results were grotesque, and didn’t look worth tasting. Others were intriguing, and Perceptor nibbled on more than a few odd berries. Drift purchased three potted versions available, and had Artemis hold them aside.   
  
“For the garden,” he said, lips stained pink from his sampling, and his face carrying a blush to match.   
  
Perceptor wanted to kiss him, taste strawberry on his lips and see how much sweeter it would be. He refrained, if only because he was so aware of the cameras and eyes watching them. And because Drift was still a little skittish in the wake of Perceptor’s confession.   
  
“Whatever you want,” Perceptor replied, and gently wiped a bit of strawberry filling from the corner of Drift’s mouth.   
  
More booths attracted their attention. He let Drift lead the way, following in his lover’s wake, taking careful note of the things to which Drift paid special attention. He could always use hints for what to get Drift as a gift.   
  
Which meant, of course, he didn’t fail to notice Drift’s lingering gaze on the central stage and the musicians upon it. Or more specifically, the dancers who were enjoying the various styles of music.   
  
“Do you want to dance?” Perceptor asked.   
  
Drift looked, startled. “What?” He let go of the strawberry-themed blanket he was admiring.   
  
Perceptor tilted his head toward the space cleared for the dance floor. “Will you dance with me?”   
  
Drift looked around, a little wild. “Are we even allowed to?”   
  
“Of course.” Perceptor smiled and offered a hand to his partner. “I know quite a few myself. Shall I lead?”   
  
There was hesitation in the way Drift’s fingers slipped into his palm – not because Drift didn’t want to, but because he wasn’t sure he was allowed. Perceptor suspected it had to do with his upbringing, whoever it was who had worked so hard to stifle the artist within him.   
  
“Don’t you always?” Drift replied with a hint of his usual cheeky humor.   
  
Perceptor swung him gently onto the dance floor, in the midst of the human dancers, who made room for them. “Only because you let me.” He curled an arm around Drift’s waist and smiled when Drift knowledgeably placed his free hand on Perceptor’s shoulder.   
  
“Because I want you to,” Drift replied, barely louder than a murmur, his eyes wide as he looked up at Perceptor.   
  
“And that, sunshine, is why we work so well together.” Perceptor pulled Drift close, until they were pressed nearly belly to belly. “I know you have rhythm. Listen for it. I’ll do the rest. Trust me. It’s no different than the dance you do with your blade.”   
  
Drift’s face flushed. “That’s not a dance though,” he said.   
  
“You say that only because you’ve never had the pleasure of watching yourself move in the sunlight,” Perceptor murmured. He pressed their noses briefly together. “Now. Listen.”  
  
He closed his eyes, focused on the music. He squeezed Drift’s hands, waiting for the proper beat, and then he took a step, moving into it. Drift moved with him, as Perceptor knew he would. The music was in Drift’s core, had been for the past fifteen minutes as they circled around the dance floor, Drift yearning but never saying so.   
  
“See?” Perceptor said as they swayed and spun to the beat, matching the elegant waltz with all the other humans. “Your core knows what to do already.”   
  
Drift’s hand trembled in his. He looked up at Perceptor with bright eyes. “They teach you this in Tyger Pax?”   
  
“We learned many things,” Perceptor answered. He slid a step backward, and Drift matched him, without once looking down at his feet. “The pursuit of knowledge has always been a core tenet of Tyger Pax, no matter how inconsequential it might seem.”   
  
“Except for studying humans apparently.”   
  
Perceptor inclined his head. “Except for that. There are some dangers not worth pursuing, I suppose. But dance is harmless.” He flexed his fingers against Drift’s back, pulling him into a slow spin. “Not to mention flirtatious.”   
  
Drift’s lips twitched toward a smile. “I do feel a little seduced.”   
  
“As well you should.”   
  
They nearly bumped a human couple, and apologies were quickly offered, but the humans didn’t mind. Perceptor was distantly aware of the flash of cameras, and perhaps someone out there was recording them, but it didn’t matter. He pretended it was only he and Drift on the dance floor, enjoying the moment.   
  
The music swelled into a faster beat, building to a crescendo. Drift followed him with ease, as though his feet knew the steps already. He’d always been a quick learner. The drums seemed to beat in tune with the rapid pulse of Perceptor’s core.   
  
Or perhaps that was the way the world narrowed around him. Because while he was peripherally aware of other dancers, he stared into Drift’s eyes and only knew Drift and the music, the grass beneath his talons, the sweet scent of strawberries in the warm air, the press of their bodies, so close. Perhaps, even, he could feel Drift’s core beating against his chest.   
  
Loving him was the easiest part.   
  
A step to the right, two to the left, forward, back, spin, spin, and with a chiming clang of the cymbal, Perceptor tipped Drift into a dip, feathers draped across the ground in a beautiful spill of grays and white, Drift looking up at him with bright brown eyes, like polished amber. His tongue swept across his lips.   
  
“I love you,” Drift said, nearly lost to the applause.   
  
Perceptor pulled Drift upright. “What?” he asked, dumbly. Had he heard what Drift said, or what he’d hoped his partner would say?  
  
“I love you,” Drift repeated and his eyes shimmered. “And I mean it. Not because I think I owe it to you, but because it’s true. It’s been true for a while, I was just afraid to say it, because that would mean admitting it was real, and everything real I’ve ever wanted I wasn’t allowed to keep.”   
  
Perceptor’s mouth went dry. He thought he ought to say something, but words fluttered away from his tongue.   
  
“So I love you,” Drift said, again, for the third time, sounding even more certain than the first two times. “And, uh, I guess I just wanted you to know that.”  
  
Perceptor swallowed over a lump in his throat. “Just when I think you can’t amaze me more,” he murmured. “I love you, too, and if I can’t kiss you right now, I think my core might explode.”   
  
Drift chuckled and rose up on his tarsals, sealing his mouth over Perceptor’s in a hot and hard kiss. Their bodies pressed together, heat to heat, and Perceptor was even more certain this time he could feel the rapid fluttering of Drift’s core.   
  
Something flashed in the corner of his eye.   
  
Perceptor ended the kiss with a nip to Drift’s lips and turned to acknowledge it. He was not at all surprised to find Ms. Jessica a few paces away, a camera in hand and her newest suitor doggedly trailing after her, laden with bags and boxes of her purchases.   
  
“I hope you don’t mind,” Ms. Jessica said, her cheeks flushed with excitement. She held up her camera, giving it a wiggle. “But I swear that was the cutest thing I’ve seen all year.”   
  
Perceptor bit back a sigh.   
  
Drift pressed against him, tucking his head under Perceptor’s chin. “That depends,” he said lightly. “Are you going to give us a copy?”   
  
Perceptor slid his arms around his lover and chuckled. “Yes. A framed one even,” he added.   
  
Dr. Jessica’s eyes lit up. “Of course! Anything you want.” She scuttled closer, her sandals flipflopping against her heels. “I have to ask, how did you learn to dance like that?”   
  
Perceptor offered her a polite smile. “I’m happy to tell you, but perhaps another time. Drift and I are on a date right now.”   
  
“Oh my goodness. You’re right! How rude of me.” A flush stained Ms. Jessica’s cheeks beneath her freckles. She stepped back closer to her own date. “I am, too. But Francis is at least used to me running off on my own. Aren’t you, dear?”   
  
Francis gave her the most indulgent smile. “You are a bundle of enthusiasm and energy that I find irresistibly delightful.”   
  
Ms. Jessica replied with a quite girlish giggle. “Oh, you.” She gave them a playful slap to the shoulder. “You’re such a charmer.”   
  
Drift leaned up toward Perceptor’s ear. “Please tell me we’re not that ridiculous in public.”   
  
Perceptor laughed. “Come now. I think it’s cute,” he teased as Ms. Jessica giggled again and wound her elbow through her date’s, tugging them along.   
  
“Let’s go, Francis. We shouldn’t disturb the lovebirds anymore.” She winked at Perceptor. “Get it? Lovebirds?”   
  
“Oh, Adaptus.” Drift buried a snorting laugh in Perceptor’s throat.   
  
Perceptor’s lips twitched. He smiled, too.   
  
They watched Ms. Jessica drag her date away. Around them, the music started up again, a faster beat this time, something meant to wriggle, too. This was not really Perceptor’s forte.   
  
“Shall we return to the festival, cupcake?” Perceptor asked as he tangled his fingers with Drift’s.   
  
He received an affectionate squeeze in return. “As long as I’m with you, I’m happy doing anything.”   
  
“Now who’s the one being sappy?” Perceptor teased. He towed Drift off the dance floor, carefully avoiding the humans twisting and spinning and gyrating to the rapid rhythm of the music.   
  
“Just saying what’s true.” Drift abruptly tugged on Perceptor’s hand, leaning toward something that caught his eyes. “I think I smell bread,” he said with a low moan of want. “And cinnamon.”   
  
Perceptor chuckled. “Then let’s go find it.”   
  
Because like Drift, he wanted to be wherever Drift was, because that was where happiness lay.   
  
Right next to his beloved.   
  


****


	8. Chapter 8

“So, what completely invasive line of questioning do you think Ms. Jessica will have for us today?” Drift asked.   
  
Perceptor laughed. “That’s a good question. I’m sure she’s running out of topics by now.”   
  
Drift grinned and tucked his hands behind his back. It was a running point of amusement between the two of them, Ms. Jessica’s endless curiosity. Though she rarely summoned them to her office for curiosity’s sake. She usually saved her questions for their biweekly meetings. This must be something of great importance to her.   
  
“What haven’t we covered at this point?” Drift asked.   
  
“A few things I’ve already informed her I won’t be discussing,” Perceptor replied, and shook his head, his feathers slicking down. “Such as our methods of sexual reproduction. I know she’s only interested in a scientific manner, but I still find myself flustered whenever she asks.”   
  
Drift shifted closer to his lover, rubbing his cheek on Perceptor’s shoulder. “Aw, you’re shy, buttercup.”   
  
“You couldn’t answer them either,” Perceptor retorted.   
  
“Yes, well, I’m not the local scientific expert either.” Drift slid a hand down, clasping it around Perceptor’s to offer a squeeze. “I’m just the arm candy.”   
  
Perceptor snorted a laugh, cutting his eyes at Drift. “Where did you hear that term?”   
  
“Artemis. She has such a colorful vocabulary.”   
  
“Of course she does.”   
  
A pity this would be Artemis’ last year at the university. She would be graduating next fall, with honors no less.   
  
The main building came into view. It was a massive construction of stone, ivy crawling up the sides, and three columns rising from a short run of stairs. It was one of the first buildings built, Drift had been told. It used to be the mansion of some looney aristocrat before he donated the building and the land for a burgeoning dream.   
  
The university had risen thanks to the man’s generosity, and it held true to the tenets he demanded they follow – conservation, preservation, and acceptance. No wonder Drift had always felt welcome here.   
  
The main building had been modernized since the aristocrat’s death. The front doors swung open when it sensed their presence, they didn’t have to do a thing. Drift still marveled at the technologies humans could devise. They were so clever! Working always to change the world to suit their purposes.   
  
Though that cleverness could at times come at great cost. Drift had seen the razed forests, the pollution-clogged rivers, the mountains hewn into blocks. Humans could be terrible, too. He and Perceptor were both lucky that those in Kaon weren’t like the others.   
  
It was cool and quiet inside, the air conditioning blasting over them and giving Drift the chills. His feathers drew tight to his body.   
  
“You know,” Drift murmured, his voice echoing if he spoke too loud. “I love it here.”   
  
Perceptor’s fingers squeezed his. “Do you now?”   
  
“I do. I mean, it’s probably not where I thought I would end up, but I’m glad it did. I didn’t know I could be happy like this. Didn’t think it was possible.” Drift chewed on his bottom lip.   
  
They forewent the elevators – Drift wasn’t fond of those – and took the narrow, spiraling staircase up to the second floor. Here, the floors were wood, and their talons clicked noisily as they took the west hallway to a string of offices, one of which belonged to Ms. Jessica.   
  
“Life often offers the strangest turns. I never expected to find my future here either, and yet, here I am.” Perceptor smiled and let go of Drift’s hand, only so he could slide his arm over Drift’s shoulder. “With you no less.”   
  
Drift’s core fluttered.   
  
They arrived at Ms. Jessica’s office, and the secretary at the front waved them in without getting up from her desk. She looked harried, a pencil clenched between her teeth as she typed furiously on her computer. A leaning tower of folders perched at the edge of her desk.   
  
Drift casually gave them a nudge toward safety as he passed. Seemed like students weren’t the only ones who stressed at the end of a semester.   
  
Perceptor opened the door, announcing their arrival with a rap of his knuckles, and Drift slipped in behind him, letting the door click quietly shut.   
  
“Good afternoon Perceptor, Drift,” Ms. Jessica greeted them from behind stacks of paperwork, her hair in a frazzled bun exploding with curls, her glasses slipping dangerously low on her nose. “Sorry to summon you like this, but as you can see, I’m a bit buried here.”   
  
“Graduation season is always a busy time. I remember,” Perceptor replied. He took the empty chair.   
  
Drift looked around, but the other chair was piled high with manila folders, so he leaned a hip against the arm of Perceptor’s chair instead.   
  
“Even busier this year.” Ms. Jessica put down her pen and pushed her glasses up with the tip of her finger. “This is the first graduating class we’ll have in Avian Studies, and though there are only three of them, they’re the first to gain a degree on Cybertron.”   
  
Perceptor arched his brows. “Impressive.”   
  
“Yes, but it means lots of paperwork on my end.” Ms. Jessica gave them a half-smile and started searching through her desk, lifting up papers to look beneath them. “I have something for you here. It arrived by post this morning.”   
  
“Mail? For me?” Perceptor blinked. “Another interview perhaps?”   
  
Perceptor’s arm came around Drift’s waist, tugging him close, and Drift’s core gave a flutter of fondness, as it always did when Perceptor so casually offered him affection publicly.   
  
Ms. Jessica chuckled. “Of course not. You’re my prize subject! You think I’d let anyone else get a crack at all that tasty information you have for me?” She winked and pulled out a drawer. “Ah. Here it is.” She withdrew a rolled parchment, tied with a ribbon, and brandished it. “Don’t think this came from any human if you ask me.”   
  
Drift had to agree with her.   
  
“No, it did not,” Perceptor said, and his tone was quiet, his eyes narrowing as he eyed the scroll. There were some symbols on the ribbon – a language Drift did not recognize. Was it something familiar to Perceptor from Tyger Pax?  
  
Perceptor made no move to accept the scroll. His free hand curled into a fist in his lap. For the first time, Drift saw Perceptor hesitant, wary. Afraid even. Leaving Tyger Pax behind had been difficult for him. He knew what it meant he would abandon, but perhaps he hadn’t had confirmation of it yet.   
  
Drift accepted it from Ms. Jessica in Perceptor’s stead. The paper felt heavier than it should in his hands. It was thick vellum, a paper suited for clumsier harpy talons, rather than the soft, agile fingers of a human.   
  
Perceptor’s throat bobbed. “Open it for me, would you, sunshine?” he asked, his voice making an attempt to be steady, but Drift didn’t miss the quiver of Perceptor’s fingers against his side.   
  
“Sure thing.” Drift plucked the ribbon away, draping it carefully over his thigh.   
  
There was a tag attached to the ribbon. Someone had painstakingly – in the human language no less – printed Perceptor’s name and an approximation of an address here at Kaon University. Someone who knew Perceptor was here, but not where exactly on campus he was.   
  
Drift carefully unrolled the scroll and glanced at the tiny, neat script that flowed across the page. It was not in a Harpy dialect he recognized, though some words were simple enough he could figure them out. ‘Friend’ being chief among them.   
  
“Sorry, love, I can’t read this.” Drift let the scroll roll itself up. He offered it to Perceptor. “But I think it’s from a friend.”   
  
Perceptor reached up as if to take it, hesitating, before he inhaled and accepted it.   
  
“Don’t mind me.” Ms. Jessica waved them off and picked up a pen, pointedly bending over her paperwork. “I’m not paying any attention at all.”   
  
Perceptor chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “It’s quite all right. I’m sure it’s nothing dire.” His expression belied his words, however.   
  
Drift leaned in closer to his partner while Perceptor released Drift so he could hold the paper with both hands. Drift didn’t comment on the tremor in Perceptor’s fingers. Instead, he pressed his cheek to Perceptor’s head, offering comfort where he could.   
  
Perceptor read silently. The only noise was that of Dr. Jessica’s pen scratching across the paper, and the flutter as she moved from one document to the next. There was a tapping noise, which Drift belatedly recognized as that of Ms. Jessica’s foot rapping the floor.   
  
“It’s from Shockwave,” Perceptor said after a moment, his tone both confused and impressed. “He’s the head of the bioengineering studies. But why would he…” Perceptor trailed off, lips pressing together as he continued reading.   
  
Drift had heard Perceptor mention Shockwave before. More colleague than friend, Drift recalled. Perceptor had been familiar with many of the high-standing scientists in his aerie. Truth be told, if he hadn’t left, Perceptor probably would have inherited Chief Physicist from Quark, after the smol retired.   
  
“He wants to come here,” Perceptor said, sounding baffled. “He’s asking permission. He wants to continue his research in Kaon. He wants access to human technology and the council is refusing him. The only way to move forward is to come here. I feel there is something else as well, something between the lines, but he’s being vague, as if his communications are being monitored.”   
  
“You don’t think it’s a trap?” Drift asked.   
  
Perceptor gently rolled the paper, setting it in his lap. “To what end? Tyger Pax does not waste the effort of hunting down and arresting those who leave. I’m beyond their laws once I leave the border. The only true threat is if I return.” He shook his head. “No. I believe his request is sincere, however odd it might be.”   
  
“You’ve started a revolution,” Drift said, nuzzling him. He was glad it wasn’t bad news.   
  
“Apparently so,” Perceptor mused as he patted Drift’s thigh.   
  
“Kaon is prepared to accept any harpy seeking refuge here,” Ms. Jessica said without looking up from her paperwork. It was more of an offhand comment, like she didn’t want them to accuse her of intentionally eavesdropping.   
  
Drift’s lips twitched into a smile. “Are you going to reply?”   
  
Perceptor’s free hand patted the scroll. “I do believe I might. While I was not close to Shockwave, I remember him to be intelligent, dedicated, and focused. I believe his request is sincere.” He leaned in against Drift. “What do you think?”   
  
Drift slid down into Perceptor’s lap and pretended he didn’t hear Dr. Jessica’s little squeak of glee, or the crumple of the paper beneath his rump. “I think that Shockwave would make three, and we would be one step closer to building a home,” he murmured into Perceptor’s ear.   
  
Perceptor’s arm slid around him, holding him close. “Our aerie in the great tree.”   
  
“Exactly,” Drift said.   
  
He grinned and caught Perceptor’s ear with his lips, glad that his feathers hid the view, though he had no doubt Ms. Jessica watched them like a hawk. It was the most demonstrative they’d been in front of her, save that one shared kiss at the dance.   
  
“I’ll bet anything word’s gonna get out, and then there will be more. Four and then five and then six and then--”  
  
“Seven and then eight,” Perceptor continued, his other arm circling Drift, his head turning to press his forehead to Drift’s. “Mate with me.”   
  
Drift blinked. He pulled back so he could look into Perceptor’s eyes. “What?” He wasn’t even sure he’d heard his lover correctly.   
  
“I love you, and I’ll never love another,” Perceptor said, his eyes blue and bright. Drift felt caught in their pull. “We’re going to build a home here. I want you to be mine, and only mine, no matter who else comes, before someone snatches you away.”   
  
“I think you overestimate my appeal,” Drift said dryly.   
  
“And you underestimate it.” Perceptor brushed the tips of their noses together. “I can wait, if you ask. I  _will_  wait. But I know I love you, and I know I want you to be my mate. My decision will not change. The rest I leave to you.”   
  
Drift swallowed thickly, feeling as though his core had leapt right up into his throat. “Yes,” he said, but it emerged barely louder than a whisper. He cleared his throat, a quiver of desire running through his body. “Yes, I’ll mate with you.”   
  
Perceptor’s mouth closed over his in a hot and fierce kiss, and Drift returned it in kind. It felt like a promise, a confirmation of what they both wanted, and when it ended, Drift pressed his forehead to Perceptor’s.  _Home_  echoed around and around in the back of his head.   
  
 _Home_.   
  
It was Perceptor’s turn to clear his throat as he lifted his head from Drift and addressed Dr. Jessica, “If you’ll excuse us, I need to take my mate-to-be back to our room.”   
  
Ms. Jessica had her chin propped on her hand, a fond smile on her face. “Of course you do. Though I don’t mind if you stay.” She winked.   
  
Drift buried a laugh in Perceptor’s throat.   
  
Perceptor stood, lifting Drift into his arms with a strength that belied his slender body. “I appreciate it but we really must be going.” He turned toward the door as Drift held on, making it easier for Perceptor to carry him – for however long he could. “I’ll draft a reply to Shockwave, if you could be so kind to ensure it gets to him.”   
  
“Consider it done!” Ms. Jessica called after them. “And congratulations! I better get an invite to the wedding!”  
  
The door closed before either of them could form a snappish retort.   
  
Drift snickered. “Wedding,” he said, joy bubbling up inside his core. “Doesn’t she know yet that’s not how it works?”   
  
Perceptor’s mouth closed over his again and Drift moaned into the kiss, kicking his feet where they dangled in the air. “What say you we go home?” Perceptor asked against his lips, his eyes dark, his hands holding Drift tight.   
  
“Put me down and we’ll get there faster,” Drift purred.   
  
Perceptor pressed his forehead to Drift’s. “I’m so happy you came here,” he murmured as he lowered Drift back to his own two feet, though his hand lingered, as if he didn’t want to let Drift go.   
  
“Me too,” Drift replied.   
  
It was a dream come true.   
  


****

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, feedback is welcome, encouraged and greatly appreciated! <3


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